


Close Your Eyes

by PFL (msmoat)



Category: I Spy (1965)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-01
Updated: 2003-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-18 12:51:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmoat/pseuds/PFL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scotty is tempted to leave the Department for a job in the ordinary world--and to retreat once and for all from his jumbled emotions about Kelly. But if he changes his mind, will Kelly still want him to stay? Takes place mainly around the episodes "This Guy Smith", "Turnabout for Traitors" and "Happy Birthday...Everybody", but it surveys the entire series through mid-third season.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close Your Eyes

**PART I ******

_September 12, 1962_

_Dear Mom,_

_Here I am in San Francisco. You can see by the smile in the photo that I'm happy and healthy and there's no need for you to worry. That's the Golden Gate Bridge in the background, of course. I've also sent you pictures of Coit Tower (built to honor volunteer firefighters), Lombard Street ("the crookedest street in the world"), Fisherman's Wharf and The Octagon House. Tomorrow I'm going to take a walking tour through the Presidio and eat dinner in Chinatown. You would like San Francisco. I know I said that about Oxford, and Paris, but you really would enjoy it, Mom. Like Oxford, it never gets as hot here as in Philadelphia, and it doesn't get as cold, either. Unlike Oxford, there's a lot of sun and you have the ocean._

_I've finished the first week of the program. I still don't know if I've made the right decision, if I really want to work as a linguist for the government. At least for the most part the classes are interesting and the other students are the usual mix of the bright and the not-so-bright, the ambitious and the not-so-ambitious. One fellow--I'll call him Homer--is the one I'm keeping my eye on. He likes to pretend that he doesn't care about anything, but he hates to lose, especially to me. He's one of those who've gotten along on charm and improvisation rather than hard work and planning. I'm looking forward to competing against him. Obviously, this is nothing like the quality of studies and students at Oxford, but they've promised me interesting texts to work on and the chance of travel_

_You'd be proud of me Mom--I'm eating my greens. They are about the only things edible at the school. I think of you every time I force them down._

_Please don't worry about me. I'm settling down nicely, and it beats being across the entire ocean from you. You can write to me at the post office box listed below. Take good care of yourself, girl. All my love to you and to Jo,_

_Alexander_

It seemed a lifetime ago. Scotty fingered the letter as if touch could somehow erase the years and put him back in the same place as the man who had written it. Five and a half years--it didn't seem like much put that way, but the Department's shadow was a barrier he couldn't penetrate. The writer of the letter was nearly a stranger to him.

"I see you found them."

Scotty looked up as his mother entered the living room, clad in the same light blue overcoat she had worn for years. He smiled. Some things not even the Department could obscure. "Yes, they were right where you said they would be."

"I hope they'll be of help to you."

"Mom--"

She raised her hand. "Now, we've been over all of that, Alexander. I want you to think clearly about this, and I don't mind telling you that I don't think you have been thinking very clearly ever since you got here."

Scotty folded the letter and placed it back in its envelope. "Don't you want me in Philadelphia, Mom?"

"Of course I do. But I want you happy more than I want that. Alexander." He looked up and she moved forward to place her hand on his cheek. "You know I would enjoy having you here, and that offer from Professor Brandt sounds wonderful."

Scotty took her hand in his, giving it a quick kiss. "Well, then."

"Well then nothing. You've been enjoying being home these two weeks, seeing all the family, spending time with me and with Jo. I was glad you were able to come to Valerie's wedding, and proud that I could show off my fine son."

Scotty grinned. "That's me."

"But I've always been proud to talk about my fine son who travels and sends me things from all over the world. I don't want you making a decision based on what you think I want or need."

"I know that, Mom, but with Jo going off to college...."

"She'll be home often, knowing that girl. And anyway, I'll be perfectly fine on my own. Your brother isn't far away, after all, and I have family and friends of my own. I'm comfortable here. I wouldn't be comfortable if you were here and you were unhappy."

His fingers tightened on hers. "I wouldn't be unhappy."

"And what about Kelly?"

Scotty shrugged. "Kelly will adjust. He got along fine before he ever met me."

She took her hand from his, then bent to kiss him on the cheek. "I wouldn't be too sure of that. Well, you'll decide for yourself, I know. Just don't jump to any hasty decisions. You've got time. You may think you've fooled me, with all this talk about happening to have vacation when your cousin was getting married, but I know there's more to it than that, and more to you taking Professor Brandt's offer seriously. It's your business, but I want you to look at the whole situation. You can read those letters and remind yourself as you decide which direction you want to take your life. Promise me now that you'll think about what's truly best for you, son."

Scotty stood and wrapped his arms around her, feeling her frailty, despite her indomitable spirit. "I will."

She hugged him back, then stepped away to put her hat on and pick up her purse. "Are you sure you don't want to come along to Ruby's? There'll be plenty of food left over."

"Be there while you and Aunt Ruby and the others go over Valerie's wedding from start to finish? No, ma'am, I do not want to be there."

She smiled at him. "Well, you will have the place to yourself since Jo won't be home until tomorrow. I should be home by nine. You'll be all right for dinner? I could--"

He ushered her to the door. "I'll be fine, Mom, don't you worry. You just go and have a nice time with the girls. I love you."

"I love you, too, Alexander."

Scotty closed the door behind her, then turned back to the room, eyeing the shoeboxes piled next to the sofa with some wariness. More than five years of his life were represented by those boxes, all the letters he'd sent home to his mother. His life with the Department was there. His mother hoped that by reading them through he'd find some clarity to help him to decide if leaving the Department was the best thing to do. She didn't know that loss of clarity was an occupational hazard.

Walking back to the sofa, Scotty sat down and ran his finger along the tops of the letters. Kelly didn't know any of this was happening. Kelly was fishing in Acapulco, getting some sun, getting his arm back in shape. They'd been lucky that Sally's bullet hadn't done more damage, lucky that it had been Kelly's left arm. They had been lucky that the bullet hadn't hit center mass, where she had no doubt been aiming.

Scotty moved the top box to the coffee table, then picked a letter at random from the box below. The postmark indicated it came from Rome. He opened the letter.

_Dear Mom,_

_Rome is hot and dusty and appears to be in the middle of a drought although they tell me of course it is not a drought. It is Rome in the summer. I meant to spend the weekend relaxing, going swimming in the hotel pool now and again, and catching up on some sleep. But Kelly got us invited to an Italian family's country home in a farming village. The village was an amazing complex of old stone buildings surrounding a central plaza. The whole family lives there--patriarch, sons, wives, children and grandchildren. They brought the neighbors in to celebrate us being there. It was hot and dusty there, too, but I hardly noticed._

Scotty folded the letter, holding it between his hands. He'd gotten so good at mixing truth with lie in his years at the Department. It had been hot and dusty, true enough, and the neighbors had been there, and he hadn't noticed much except for the trial, and the threat, and Kelly's stubbornness.

Abruptly, Scotty got to his feet and walked over to the window behind the sofa, the letter still in his hand. He'd written it the evening after they'd arrived back at the hotel. The room had been quiet, Kelly lying on his bed smoking while Scotty wrote to his mother. He remembered the thickness of the silence. He remembered wondering just what Kelly was thinking about--if he was being held in the grip of the past, and what, exactly that past had been. For all that he knew Kelly better than any man alive, there were areas of Kelly's life that were a blank for him. The army was one of those. Sometimes he could find out more by probing. Sometimes, he regretted the probing.

Scotty left the window, walking back to the sofa to stuff the letter back into the box, without regard for order. What was this going to get him? He couldn't trust what he'd written then; it only proved that he would be better off leading a less complex life. A life where he wouldn't have to lie to his mother. He rested his hand for a moment on the box, feeling the top edges of envelopes. Five and a half years of it.

Just over two weeks ago they had been on their way to San Francisco, Russ having finally agreed to stop the local authorities from arresting them after they had unmasked Sally Holmes. Except Russ had said they were to detour to Mexico to deliver some needed information and find out about their next assignment, vacation deferred. Scotty had interrupted Kelly's heated protest by saying he was needed at home and his vacation was long overdue and he was taking his two weeks. Russ had reluctantly allowed them the two weeks, as long as Kelly agreed to act as courier to Mexico. After Russ had left, Kelly had been suspicious until Scotty had produced the letter from his mother to prove that the story was genuine.

Scotty hadn't shown the other letter to Kelly, the one his mother had enclosed from Professor Brandt, asking Scotty to contact him. He also hadn't told Kelly that he had meant to send his regrets to both his mother and to Professor Brandt. For the first time in years, they were taking separate vacations.

Scotty looked again at the box of letters on the table. His mother was right; he needed perspective, he needed to assess everything. On the one hand, he had an offer of a faculty position, assistant professor rank, in the department of Linguistics at Temple. Professor Brandt, Anthropology, wanted to work with him on the remarkable documents he had discovered while excavating at the site of an ancient Greek colony near the Black Sea. The documents appeared to be from a private collection, buried in haste during one of the many advances of the Ottoman Turks. The sealed containers had held hundreds of documents from what appeared to be a variety of different eras in the life of the colony--from Greek dominance to Roman to Byzantine. He had his dissertation topic to hand, if he so chose, and a life of intellectual stimulation, with travel guaranteed.

On the other hand.... Scotty looked at the letters. On the other hand, he had what was in these letters, what was behind them. He had never analyzed the mixture of motivations that kept him in the Department. Perhaps it was time he did. Scotty reached for the second letter in the first box.

He read quickly through the letters covering his days in training. He remembered how hard it had been to write them, with very little that he could tell his mother. He'd taken to spending as much of his rare free time as possible out and about, looking for interesting pieces of local history to tell her. It had given him less of a social life, but he hadn't minded that. The trainees were all going to be dispersed to different areas of the Department, depending on their specializations, if they made it through training at all. In some ways, he had decided to stay with the training program simply to prove he could do it. Scotty smiled to himself--he might say that he had stayed to prove he could beat Kelly.

The year after training was represented by a few scattered letters as he'd been shipped to various locations for one-off missions and for additional training. He'd found that he had a flair for, and enjoyed, field work. It had been a one-time mission organized by Commander Riddle that had reunited him with Kelly, and proved the catalyst for their partnership. Scotty picked up another letter, creased from having been folded haphazardly more than once.

_Dear Mom,_

_I just got off the telephone with you but I wanted to write it all down for you as well. I know what I'm doing, Mom, trust me. It's not that I've lost interest in linguistics, it's just that I'd like something different for a while. Think of it as a sort of leave--I can always come back to the government job if this doesn't work out. Or I can go back for my PhD and become a scholar of linguistics._

_I've been earning extra money at the sports club, doing training and such, and it turns out I have a knack for it. I enjoy it, and I enjoy seeing the progress people make when they have a trainer working with them. The money is good and I can do this anywhere in the world. Maybe I'll hook up with a national team or an athlete. I just want to explore other possibilities. I want to live my life rather than study life. You can understand that, right?_

_I'll call you again soon._

_All my love,_

_Alexander_

The truth was, he'd hated the months he worked at establishing his cover as a professional sports trainer. By the time Kelly had arrived, Scotty would have accepted anyone as his partner, much less the man he'd been most competitive with in training--the man he'd worked so easily with on that job in the Philippines. He never had to explain an idea to Kelly and he could count on Kelly having ideas of his own.

Scotty replaced that letter and picked up the next, skimming through until he reached the part he remembered writing:

_You might have heard of him; he was on the Davis Cup team a few years ago, third-seed at Forest Hills: Kelly Robinson. He showed up at the club, trying to work through an injury that kept him out of tennis for almost a year. I helped him--put him on a proper training schedule, made sure he stuck to it, and he's better now. He's going back on the circuit and he wants me to go along with him. I'm taking him up on the offer._

_He's a tall man--maybe an inch taller than I am--and on the thin side. He's good, with a strong serve and a punishing backhand, but his net game could use some improvement, and his footwork, especially, needs attention. He also needs someone to keep him in line and on schedule._

Scotty shook his head, wondering what his mother must have thought when he teamed up with Kelly. She'd never said anything about it, but he was sure she'd gone right out to read what she could about Kelly. Given that the Department had been eager to promote Kelly's somewhat shady reputation, she must have been concerned. But she hadn't written a word in her letters, except to say that she was keeping up with Kelly's games as best as she could.

He read through the next letters quickly, seeing the words describing Prague, Cape Town, Amsterdam, but remembering that they'd lost Harrison in Prague, and they'd blown it in Cape Town, and he'd killed his first man in Amsterdam. Scotty looked up from the letter, his gaze landing on a beautifully carved box on the fireplace mantle. He'd bought that box in Amsterdam. Or, to be more exact, Kelly had helped him find that box, during the long walk after he'd killed Grazinsky. They'd walked through the sunrise and on through the morning, as if they were early-rising American tourists. He hadn't said a word to Kelly about the significance of the killing, but it was obvious that Kelly knew, and was going to stay with Scotty. After a while, the silent presence at his side, or at his back, had become a sort of comfort--something real in the unreal world he'd chosen to enter.

Letting his eyes travel around the apartment, Scotty took in the familiar pictures and paintings, the decorations he had sent to his mother from abroad, and the books cluttering the shelves. He had read all the books, some more than once, growing up in this apartment, after they'd moved from the old building. He had listened to the same soft ticking of the clock on the wall, as he'd slept in the living room alcove with his brother, waiting for the next day, the next year, the moment when he could take charge of his life. So much about the apartment had changed--new furniture, new arrangements--but there was more that was exactly the same. He knew which of the chips in the woodwork were his fault, remembered why the clock was hung at that particular spot on the wall. It was strange to be back, to be so aware of the ghosts of the past, of his younger self. He belonged and yet he didn't belong and none of it seemed to fill the silent, empty space at his side.

All right. He could get used to that silence, the question was whether he should.

Returning to the box of letters, Scotty pulled out an envelope with a London postmark. Opening the envelope, Scotty's eye was drawn immediately to Kelly's distinctive handwriting. This was the first of many additional comments that Kelly had added to Scotty's letters:

_Dear Mrs. Scott,_

_My name is Kelly Robinson. Scotty has told you all about me, I know, but I feel we haven't been properly introduced. I was born and raised for a time in Ohio. My mother died when I was young and after that I was in boarding school or living with my father on various army bases. I graduated from Princeton (which Scotty says isn't a patch on Temple) and took up tennis. Scotty is helping me to stay with tennis by making sure that I'm in shape and at the top of my game. He appears to enjoy making me sweat and suffer but he denies there is a sadistic bone in his body. He's telling me right now to tell you that he is eating his greens and washing behind his ears. I can't attest to the latter but the only green thing I've seen him close to is the tennis court. Admittedly, we are in England, which is quite green but not, apparently, at mealtimes. Scotty is taking this away from me now. Take care and best wishes -- Kelly Robinson._

He could hear Kelly's voice, see his smile as they'd grappled for the letter. Scotty folded the paper and slid it back into its envelope. London had been followed by Rome followed by a brief visit to Istanbul, then on to Acapulco for the first time. Reading in chronological order, he saw the changes in the letters, saw how Kelly's additions and his own subsequent comments filled them. It was as if their conversations had spilled out onto the paper for his mother to see, for anyone to see. They knew the letters were vetted before they were delivered; what had they been thinking to write as they did?

Midway through their lengthy stay in Hong Kong, Scotty took a break from the letters to make himself a ham sandwich for dinner. Outside it was twilight, evening settling down over Philadelphia. He gazed out the kitchen window, watching the last of the natural light fade and the artificial light taking its place. It was this life now, in a quiet part of Philadelphia, that seemed unreal to him. Sandwich and drink in hand, Scotty returned to the letters, and found one from Kelly:

_Dear Mom,_

_Scotty asked me to write but I would have anyway. Despite the best care in the world, and all our (yours and mine) efforts, Scotty has come down with a bad cold. He's under strict orders to stay in bed and I'm having the hotel deliver chicken noodle soup at regular intervals. Now don't you worry about him. I know he's not getting the care he'd get from you, but you can trust me to see that he gets the best possible second best care. You know what a bad patient he makes so you won't be surprised when he soon demands pen and paper and writes to you himself._

_In the meanwhile, I will write and let you know how he's doing._

_With love,_

_Kelly_

Hong Kong. He'd been shot by Russ Conley, one of Kelly's instructors, a man Kelly had given every chance to, despite orders from the Department to terminate him. Scotty had paid the price for Kelly's loyalty with a bullet in his leg, and the remembrance of the anguish in Kelly's voice as he'd apologized:

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

That had been the first in a string of betrayals for Kelly that year: Conley, Alicia, Fane, even Sean and Jean, in their own ways. Each one had taken a piece of Kelly with them, and he hadn't that much to spare.

As Scotty placed the Hong Kong letter back in the box it dawned on him that he hadn't come across any other letters from Kelly to his mother. Yet he knew that by that time Kelly had been writing occasional letters of his own to her, and receiving replies as well that he only rarely showed Scotty. Frowning, Scotty climbed to his feet. He deposited his glass in the kitchen, then walked to the hope chest where he had found his own letters to his mother. Sure enough, in a small red box, under a serape from Mexico, he found letters bearing his partner's scrawl. A quick look showed that the letters started in 1965 and continued up to the present. He hesitated for a long moment, then put the lid back on the box and tucked it away where it belonged.

Scotty sat back on his heels, frustrated. What was any of this telling him? He knew he was good at his job, he knew that it brought him satisfaction. He knew, very well, the risks that were involved. Scotty's eyes strayed to the hope chest. It wasn't just a matter of protecting Kelly's privacy; he didn't want to read his letters--and the aversion Scotty felt was something close to fear, which surprised him. Scotty looked across the room to the boxes on the coffee table. Maybe a more targeted approach was needed.

Returning to the sofa, he sorted through the letters until he reached one from Los Angeles. They'd driven there from Monterey to catch a flight to Washington, D.C. The Department had wanted them out of California for a time, until Kelly's "death," in his undercover role, was forgotten.

_Iago, Iago. I'll take care of it._

For some reason, it was those words, and his own voice, that always resurfaced whenever he thought of Monterey. He remembered hearing the bang of the collision and hurrying outside to see the crowd gathering around Edward Prince-Edward's car. He remembered the motorcycle lying on its side and the dent in the car. At the time, Scotty had thought only of stopping the situation from escalating and thereby interfering with the case. As he'd told Vickie, he was a professional, no sentiment allowed, no thoughts of revenge, and he'd channeled his emotions into the case. Scotty closed his eyes, bringing the scene to life in his mind, as he'd done before, reliving it so it wouldn't come to him in nightmares:

"Iago, Iago. I'll take care of it. Mr. Prince-Edward wouldn't want a scene--" Scotty turned to deal with the motorcyclist and found Kelly--alive, unhurt, and pretending to be part of a motorcycle gang. The look of him--Kelly's presence--struck Scotty with the force of a blow. The words stopped in his throat and it was all he could do to keep his face still, acutely aware of Iago watching him. He could barely hear Kelly's voice over the sudden thundering of his heart, over the litany chanting in his brain: alive; he's alive!

"Listen, uh, it wasn't my fault, man. I, uh, run into an oil slick back there." Kelly glanced away, giving Scotty the moment to get himself under control.

"Show me." He followed Kelly, forcing his body to obey him, shaking himself back into character, back into being both Kelly's partner and Johnny Harmon. Kelly must have been faking it in the morgue. Good idea; good for the case. But all Scotty wanted to do was to smack him: screw the case, screw the Department, screw Kelly and his bright ideas.

Taking a deep breath, Scotty pushed the scene away from him, amazed at the intensity of his emotions even after nearly two years. They'd gone in undercover to stop a terrorist plot. In the course of the job they'd staged Kelly's death and then, when proof had been demanded, Kelly had had the forethought to make arrangements with the morgue. There hadn't been any opportunity to warn Scotty before he'd arrived at the morgue, and maybe that had aided them in the end, for Scotty's reactions had been real enough, if controlled to align with his role as Johnny Harmon.

Scotty jumped to his feet and paced to the window and back, then around again to the window. Okay. That was the start of it. Go back to that night.

*****

 

"Are you hungry?" Scotty, vigorously rubbing a towel over his wet hair, looked inquiringly at Kelly. The shower had been more than welcome.

"What? Oh, no, not very." Kelly was sprawled on his bed, shoes off, pillows bunched under his head.

"Call for room service or go out?"

Kelly looked at him. "I don't think they have room service, Jack. You do what you want, man. I'm going to sleep." Kelly rolled over onto his side.

"She wore you out, did she?"

"Who?"

"That lab technician. The one who helped you play dead." Scotty collected his key and wallet, stuffing them into his jeans pocket. He pulled on a shirt, buttoned it up and tucked it in.

"Oh. Yes, certainly. Listen, bring me back something, will you?"

"Now you're hungry. Funny how you change the topic whenever I bring what's-her-name up." Scotty looked narrowly at the back of Kelly's head. "You could at least tell me her name."

"You already have a date. Six months? Vickie? Remember?"

"So we'll double." Scotty let himself out of the room. He was back within the hour with cheeseburgers, French fries and Cokes from McDonalds. Afterwards, Scotty sat in a small, uncomfortable armchair, his legs stretched out in front of him, watching the sun set. Behind him he could hear Kelly switching the channels on the TV and grumbling at the reception. Scotty smiled and thought about seeing Vickie again on his next vacation, as he'd promised. They'd lived together as man and wife for over two weeks, and he'd hated every moment of it. The case had been frustrating and he'd felt trapped with Vickie and Randy, worried about them caught up in something that could turn dangerous at a moment's notice. He'd blamed Vickie for volunteering for something she didn't understand and wasn't trained for. But once he'd learned the truth and discovered her motive in needing to see the case through--whether he approved of her scheme to avenge Larry Brand's death or not--he'd begun to understand her. They had had something in common and, once the defensive walls were down, they'd clicked. She was beautiful and intelligent, and she understood the life he led. Scotty stretched and relaxed--the world was fine from where he was sitting.

Kelly swore, then turned off the TV.

"Do you mind? I'm basking over here!" Scotty closed his eyes.

"Oh, basking, are you? I see. Well then, you'll enjoy the peace and quiet. Why is it that motels always have lousy reception? Don't they _want_ people to stay here?"

"Adjust the antenna."

A loud sigh greeted that. "Yes. I already tried that."

"Read a book."

"I haven't got a book. Do you have a book?"

Scotty smiled. "I don't need one." He could well imagine the look Kelly was giving him and his smile widened. After a few minutes he heard a zipper opening and closing, the switch of a lamp, and then the sound of cards being shuffled. He peeled open one eye and looked over to find Kelly sitting cross-legged on his bed, dealing himself a hand of solitaire. "I thought you were sleepy."

"I was. Now I'm not."

Scotty stood up, closed the drapes over the window and wandered over to watch Kelly play. "You're cheating again."

"Your bed is right there." Kelly pointed, keeping his eyes on the cards.

"A grown man shouldn't cheat at cards."

"I'm not cheating, I'm playing by different rules." Kelly took the jack of spades off the queen of clubs and tucked it back into the deck.

"Very convenient rules."

"Certainly."

"Randy tried some rules of his own on me when we were playing Go Fish the other night. I didn't allow him to get away with it, either."

Kelly moved over a stack of cards onto the seven of hearts. "You're no fun at all. He's a good kid."

"He is."

Kelly glanced up at him. "Are you going to keep in touch? Keep him on hold for six months?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Kelly shrugged.

"No, man, I want to know."

"Look, I'm just saying...you get involved with a woman and a child...."

"Who said anything about 'involved'? I'm going to see her in six months, that's all."

"All righty."

Scotty's irritation grew, not the least because he was affected by it. "And if it develops into something then it develops into something. I can't know where it's going now."

"You changed your tune, didn't you? About Queen V, I mean."

"Well, I was wrong about that." Scotty turned away and collected the remains of their dinner, stuffing the wrappers into the bag.

"So what happened? What made you realize you were wrong?"

"I just did." Scotty pushed the bag into the small wastepaper basket next to the TV.

"While I was dead?"

"You weren't dead, although you did give a good impression of it." Scotty folded his arms and regarded Kelly. "About this lab tech...."

"It's an old record, man." Kelly concentrated on the cards.

"You never did tell me about her."

"And I'm not going to."

"Why not?"

"There's nothing to tell."

" _Nothing_? That doesn't sound like you."

Kelly ignored him.

"Well, let me put it this way, then: are you coming back with me to Monterey?"

"No."

The abruptness in Kelly's voice drew Scotty's attention like a hound to the scent. "Seems to me I'm not the only one with a changeful mind."

Kelly looked up. "Scotty, there's really nothing to tell. Why are you so interested in this? I told you everything there was to tell you in the car."

Scotty nodded, then walked forward and sat down on the bed opposite Kelly. "Because I know you, and you're hiding something from me and you know how that bothers me."

"Just leave it."

"I would, except it's bothering you, too, whatever it is. Did you seduce the poor woman just to play your role in the morgue? What happened, Kel?"

There was a long pause while Kelly looked at him, one hand suspended above the bed, holding the cards in mid-play. "It wasn't a woman." Kelly's voice was flat.

Scotty blinked but he kept his expression neutral. "What?"

"You heard me." Kelly held his eyes for a moment longer, then looked at the cards spread out on the bed before him.

"You said...'herself' on the street yesterday."

"I lied."

"But, I--" For the first time ever, he found himself at a loss for words with Kelly. On the bed, Kelly was concentrating on his cards, placing them and drawing them. Scotty watched as he put a heart on a diamond. "You can't--"

"Look!" Kelly scrambled from the bed, cards falling to the floor. "I had sex with a man, all right? I did it."

"Why?"

Kelly stared at him, then turned away. "What do you mean, why?"

"I've never known you to--have you done this before?"

There was nothing but silence while Scotty watched the tense line of Kelly's back. He was still waiting for the punch line. There had to be a punch line. "You didn't do this for the case?"

Kelly was silent.

Scotty's eyes narrowed. "Look, are you hurt? He didn't--"

Kelly turned his head, eyes down, his face in shadowed profile to Scotty. "I've done it before."

"I see." Scotty stood up, moved away to the window, away from Kelly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well. I think you can understand that, Duke."

Scotty took in a breath. "I had a right to know. You're a--"

"Don't say it."

Scotty could feel every muscle in his body. Deliberately, he relaxed his hands and his shoulders. "What happened?"

"You don't want the details, man."

"No. But...you lied to me, all these years."

"I didn't lie to you all these years!"

"You lied to me yesterday."

Kelly turned fully to face him. "Well, gee whiz, Jack, I didn't think you'd want to get all into it in the street there!"

"What about all the women, these years?"

"What about them?"

"Well...are you just confused, or what?"

Kelly closed his eyes. "Scotty--"

"You sleep with men." Scotty watched him closely, still disbelieving.

After a pause, Kelly replied: "I have slept with men." He opened his eyes.

"But you sleep with women, too."

"You know that."

"It seems I don't know anything anymore." Scotty walked forward a few steps, needing to move. "You lied to me."

"I didn't tell you. There's a difference."

"Well, I don't see it."

"Look." Kelly's voice was tightly controlled. "I can't change the past. It happened. All we can do now is go forward. It's your call."

Scotty frowned at him. "For what?"

Kelly swallowed. "For if you want to continue working with me or not."

After a moment, Scotty breathed in. "They'd want to know why."

"Yeah, they would." Kelly's eyes were steady on his.

"I wouldn't do that to you."

Kelly was still for a moment, then he nodded. "Okay. All right." He looked down at the floor.

"But you know I'm not...I don't...." Scotty trailed off awkwardly.

Kelly looked up, and lifted his chin. "Do you want every woman you see?"

"The beautiful ones, yes."

A very slight smile appeared, and Kelly's shoulders relaxed. "Well then, you have nothing to worry about, do you?"

"Huh." Scotty rubbed a hand over his face, then looked at Kelly. "Okay. What now?"

"Now nothing. Same as before. Except, we don't talk about this, ever."

"You really think nothing's changed?"

"I think it doesn't have to."

For a long moment Scotty looked at him, weighing his options. The bottom line was, this was Kelly. "All right."

Kelly nodded once, then bent to pick up the cards scattered on the floor. "But don't lie to me anymore."

Kelly looked up at him. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

"We already went that route." Scotty turned away. "I didn't think much of it."

*****

Only it hadn't been quite that easy. Scotty reached out to place his palm against the glass in the window, feeling the hard coldness of it. He hadn't been able to put it out of his head, and it had cost them--cost Kelly--dearly.

He moved back to the sofa, thumbing quickly through the envelopes, checking postmarks. They'd stayed in the U.S. at first--Las Vegas and back to L.A., where Kelly had taken up with that starlet. Then Palm Springs and then...Scotty's hand faltered before he pulled out a series of envelopes from Venice. He looked at the envelopes, knowing what would be inside in the letters--all the sights and sounds and smells of Venice. Gondolas, canals, the Piazza San Marco, he would have written about them all. On impulse, he opened the second to last of them.

_Dear Mom,_

_It's beautiful here--warm but not hot, sunny but with enough of a breeze to be comfortable. It rained this morning, clearing out the humidity. Kelly and I walked to the Piazza San Marco, crossing over the Grand Canal._

And so it went, the words reflecting nothing of the reality of their stay in Venice. He'd been able to say nothing of the agents killed or the strain he'd placed on their partnership.

Scotty tossed the letters onto the table. Agents dying, a leak somewhere, and he'd known it wasn't him. So he'd looked at Kelly, and he'd wondered. Wondered about this "tour guide" he'd been spending time with, wondered if he'd been indiscreet. He had even wondered, very briefly, if the tour guide that Kelly had never introduced him to was a woman--Kelly, unasked, had reassured him on that point. But how well did he know his partner? Scotty had wondered about that since Monterey, and the harm it had caused was revealed in Venice.

_Just so I can get it straight for myself, and understand it completely. Are you laying this on me?_

_Well, if the sheepskin fits, wear it._

Kelly had been the one to think of the bug, to start looking for it. It hadn't even occurred to Scotty. He lowered his face into his hands, rubbing his eyes. The worst of it was the way Kelly had accepted that Scotty might have doubts about him. He had defended himself against Scotty's suspicions but he hadn't blamed Scotty for having them. Kelly never did seem surprised by doubt, or even betrayal, when it was directed at him. Angered, perhaps, but not surprised.

Scotty remembered the look in Kelly's eyes, a few months later, when Tonia had been killed and Kelly framed for it. For a short time, Kelly had believed that Scotty thought him guilty, and Scotty had had to play it out that way until he could be alone with Kelly, and demonstrate his trust in him.

Leaning forward, Scotty flipped through the envelopes in the box. Tonia. He'd wanted to write to his mother about Tonia, to tell her about that fiercely independent spirit, but all he'd been able to tell her was about baking the pies, and selling them that day in Rome. There were several letters after that, as if Scotty had needed the connection with home, but the number dropped sharply during their stay in Spain. Scotty's hand stilled and then he plucked one of the envelopes from Spain, his thumb rubbing over the postmark. Spain had been the first time they'd been placed under the direction of Troy Anderson, a man who had caused them nothing but grief.

Anderson was dead now, but Scotty could find no forgiveness for him, especially not for what he had done to Kelly. Bad enough that Kelly had been tortured the first time, worse that Troy had flung him back to the torturers in expectation of Kelly giving up the now-obsolete formula. Get one more use out of the formula and out of a busted-up agent. Scotty crushed the envelope he held, and then opened his hand, watching the paper unfold. Somehow Kelly had survived, but others caught in Troy's machinations had not. He dropped the letter onto the table.

Every agent had his flaw. In Madrid, they'd both watched Sam Maclean as she'd self-destructed, losing herself in conflicting forces. All it took was to find the flaw and apply pressure, and the agent shattered. Troy had thought he'd done that to Kelly, but Kelly had surprised everyone but Scotty by being able to face his fears and come through it.

Scotty leaned back against the sofa. After Madrid they'd come home, to Philadelphia, and he'd found his own flaw line. He looked around the apartment, remembering the desperate fight with Tommy and Chester, remembering the way Kelly had taken on Scotty's problems, had soothed his fears in action. Well, he hadn't doubted that Kelly would do that, although he'd done his best to keep him out of it. Together, they'd won the game. Alone? Scotty looked up at the ceiling. Alone, they would have both shattered long ago.

_Cross my heart and hope to die._

Lies of omission counted, though, didn't they? Scotty once more looked through the envelopes. There were a couple from Greece but then nothing until Morocco. A gap of several weeks. Laya. Spring in Athens. Troy's version of revenge--giving him an assignment anyone would love: seduce a woman, get her to commit treason, why are you in this business if you can't even do that, Scotty?

He was still in the business, but Laya was dead.

*****

It was after midnight by the time Scotty returned to their hotel in Athens. The living room was in darkness but the veranda door was open, moonlight illuminating the area. He should have been suspicious when Troy had given them this place to live. It was more like an apartment than a hotel room, complete with bookshelves, record player, fine art and comfortable furniture. The perfect place for the seduction of a beautiful lady.

Scotty closed the door behind him, set the lock, and walked forward to sit down on the sofa. He felt numb, drained of everything but cynicism. You are prepared to be a liar and a thief, are you not, Mr. Scott? There was a whisper of sound and Scotty looked towards the veranda door to see Kelly there, drink in hand. Scotty nodded at him while he took his shoes off.

Kelly walked slowly into the room. "How are you?"

Scotty raised his eyes, but he could see little but shadows in the room. "How do you expect?"

"Have you eaten?"

"I went to see Troy." Scotty leaned back against the sofa. "Hamilton will get off. Diplomatic immunity. His country has already asked for him. They'll probably pin a medal on him for killing a traitor."

Kelly walked forward a few more steps. "I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry about everything."

"Are you?" Scotty shook his head. "Troy said it was 'regrettable.'"

"Yeah, man, I'm sorry." Kelly spoke very clearly.

Scotty shrugged. "You were doing your job." Kelly had stolen the armaments list from Laya's purse, but she had brought it there. She had been under the same orders as Scotty: seduce the enemy. "She made her own choices."

Kelly moved to the side and switched on one of the lamps. He looked over at Scotty. "When you called me this morning you said she saved your life."

"After she set me up to be killed." He shook his head, wondering how it had all gotten so complicated. "She was playing her own game." It was best to put it aside, tuck it away for good; distance himself; put her beyond the pale. He looked up to find Kelly watching him. "What?"

Kelly drained his glass, swallowing the alcohol. "So Troy was right." His voice had changed, turned hard.

Scotty watched as Kelly walked over to the decanter and poured a half-glass of amber liquid. "Right about what?"

"The girl. Laya. She was one of us."

Scotty shrugged. "Not exactly, but she was learning."

"She was playing you from the start."

"No, I don't think so. She--"

"She set you up to get you killed. There's no other explanation for it." Kelly raised his glass to him. "And you fell for it hook, line and sinker." He drank the shot down.

"Go easy on that stuff. And it wasn't like that."

"Wasn't it?" Kelly put his glass down. "Why did she bring that armaments list here, then?"

Scotty stood up, irritation making him jumpy. "She thought I wanted it. She was...confused. It was only later, when she thought I'd betrayed her that she--"

"She lured you in and then she asked you over for coffee laced with poison."

Scotty frowned at Kelly. "That was Hamilton. She stopped me from drinking it, I told you that."

"Very unprofessional." Kelly shook his head.

"Because she wasn't one. She got caught up in this whole thing by accident. She was my assignment."

"And you were hers. In fact, she still has you fooled." Kelly gave him a look, then walked past him towards the bedroom.

Scotty grabbed Kelly's arm, stopping him. "It wasn't like that!"

Kelly turned back to him. "You fell like the proverbial sucker. Boy, she really had you. You were ready to destroy your career over her, Jack."

Scotty's grip tightened on Kelly's arm. "My career?" He narrowed his eyes. "That's why you told Troy that I'd given you the list?"

"I um--what?"

"Don't even try it, man. Imagine my surprise when Troy told me I'd given the list to you to take to him."

Kelly broke Scotty's hold. "I was doing my job."

"Covering for me, is that it?"

Kelly turned away. "That's part of it."

"And you--how did you put it? You said you spoiled the good thing I had going. To protect my career! Because you knew I wasn't going to finish the assignment. I wasn't going to make her a traitor. Well, congratulations because she's dead, Kel. The girl's dead because of the job."

"You were in over your head."

"I could've handled it."

Kelly faced Scotty, settling his shoulders. "Only I didn't give you the chance."

"No! You didn't. Damn it, if you hadn't taken that list--"

"She wouldn't be dead."

Scotty's fist moved without thought, but Kelly ducked the blow, moving back a few steps. "That's right, get it out."

Scotty held himself still, muscles bunched, fists clenched. "I loved her."

"Yes, you did." Kelly's voice had changed again, filled now with understanding. "Don't shrug her off."

"Damn you." Scotty turned away, stumbling a few steps before he regained his balance. All the grief he'd safely tucked away was pulling at him, swamping him. He was dimly aware of Kelly moving past him, and then the room was in darkness again, giving him privacy. But he didn't want that, he didn't want to fall into that pit that waited for him, he didn't want to see Laya's face, or Tonia's, or Kelly's, cold and empty with death. Scotty gasped and then Kelly was next to him and he grabbed Kelly's wrist, holding on to the warmth of him.

"Hey." Kelly placed one hand on Scotty's shoulder.

Scotty struggled to regain control, to stop the plunge at least part way. He put an arm around Kelly, hanging on to him, and felt Kelly's arm slide around his shoulders. Scotty's face was pressed against Kelly's, his hand still holding Kelly's wrist. He closed his eyes, fiercely concentrating on the present: forget the past, forget everything, feel only this. Feel only Kelly. And perhaps because he was focused on sensation, he felt it as a shiver went through Kelly, and he felt Kelly's immediate withdrawal, and Scotty knew what it was. He tightened his grip on him as Kelly tried to move away. _I can't change what happened in the past_. The words flitted through his head, bringing memories, bringing other things as well: new ideas.

"Scotty?"

Scotty kept his voice low. "This morning you said I can have whatever I can take in this business."

"Yeah." Kelly was wary.

He was breathing quickly, ambushed by emotions he couldn't begin to identify. Scotty pulled Kelly closer. "You, then."

"Wha--"

Scotty kissed him, one arm around Kelly's back, preventing his initial recoil, the other arm between them, his fingers still wrapped around Kelly's wrist. He kissed him and desire exploded in his blood like a bomb, scattering everything else, focusing his attention admirably. He'd had no idea.

It was Kelly who broke the kiss, finally twisting away from Scotty, breaking his hold and lurching a few steps away from him. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't do this out of...revenge."

Scotty frowned. "It isn't. I'm not." Scotty moved a step forward, stopping as Kelly stepped back. "You were part of what happened to Laya, man, but you weren't all of it. Everyone was lying around her. Hamilton, me--"

"You didn't."

"I did. I didn't tell her what I was. I only added to the confusion."

"You loved her."

"I was falling in love with her, but I barely knew her. I'd only just started to know her."

Kelly shook his head but he wasn't backing away anymore.

"Kel." Scotty held out his hand to him. "Please."

Slowly, Kelly moved forward, each step deliberate. He took Scotty's hand in his. "This is a bad idea."

Scotty pulled him close, smelling him, wondering a little at himself. He put his free hand at the back of Kelly's neck, feeling the resistance there. "Let me," he whispered, bringing his mouth against Kelly's once more.

Kelly opened to him this time and the kiss swept away any remaining doubts he had. He willingly drenched himself in Kelly, using him to drown out the grief. It was strange to feel the hardness and power of the muscles under his hands, the sense of the possibility of losing control, of being mastered. It was all shockingly unfamiliar in this context, but it was also Kelly he held, whose body was as familiar to him as his own. He wanted the difference and he wanted the closeness. He wanted this.

Scotty released Kelly's hand, bringing both his hands to hold Kelly's head, his fingers in his hair while his mouth was against Kelly's, his tongue pushing in to explore. He could feel Kelly's hands on him now, on his back, sweeping slowly up and down, one hand slipping underneath Scotty's shirt. Scotty broke the kiss, and he quickly pulled the shirt over his head. He stood before Kelly, watching him, waiting.

Kelly brought his hand up, placed it on Scotty's chest, over his nipple, his fingers curving against the muscle. Scotty felt Kelly's hand with each breath he took, and when he could stand it no longer he moved forward, snatching a quick kiss before he caught up Kelly's T-shirt in his hands and pulled it up and over Kelly's head and arms. And then he, too, was touching Kelly's chest, feeling the well-developed muscles, exploring the contours. This time it was Kelly who initiated the kiss, making it deep, his tongue diving into Scotty's mouth. Scotty rubbed his hands over Kelly's back and chest, and when he pinched Kelly's nipple, rolling it, he felt Kelly's gasp in his mouth. It was odd, peculiar, and wildly erotic, sending Scotty flying like a missile.

He pulled Kelly close against him, feeling every inch of his body, feeling the heat and hardness that was trapped in denim. His hands moved down to cup and to stroke and Kelly broke the kiss, his cheek pressed to Scotty's. "Oh, beautiful," Kelly moaned, but whether it was for what Scotty was doing to him or what his own hands were discovering of Scotty's body was unclear. Scotty undid Kelly's jeans, pushing them down, his hand roaming freely over Kelly. And then he groaned as Kelly's mouth explored his chest, and Kelly's tongue and teeth played with his nipples.

At Kelly's urging he went with him down to the floor, thinking: _we've got a perfectly good bed_ , but not caring as Kelly explored further, his mouth following a line down Scotty's chest to his belly. Scotty quickly unfastened his own jeans, not wanting that mouth to stop, and then he gasped as Kelly reached his cock, bathing it, taking it into his mouth. Scotty clenched his hands, squeezing his eyes shut; it was all coming too fast, happening too fast, but before his mind's eye was the image of Kelly swallowing his cock, and that sent him over the edge, thrusting and coming. He held on as Kelly trembled against him, pushing and seeking, and then Kelly was coming as well, burying his face in Scotty's neck.

Neither of them had the energy or the desire to move, despite the hard floor. Scotty's fingers traveled lazily over Kelly's back, his mind drifted on the echoes of pleasure. Finally, Kelly shook himself and pulled away.

"Scotty?" Kelly sounded odd, hesitant.

But Scotty knew that the one thing he didn't want to do right then was talk. So he leaned forward, and he kissed Kelly, and he said, "Come with me to bed." He stood up, stepping out of his jeans and underwear, automatically picking up his clothing to bring with him to the bedroom. When Kelly followed him, he relaxed.

Scotty tossed his clothes onto one of the beds, then sat on the other, and he held his hand out for Kelly. After a second's hesitation, Kelly moved forward and Scotty pulled him down onto the bed with him, his mouth seeking Kelly's.

He took the time, now, to demonstrate the skills he had learned over the years. There were differences, of course, but he found that Kelly's responses guided him, as other lovers had, and it all came down to touch and sensation, and caring. And Kelly spoke to him, as verbal in bed as he was out of bed, although sometimes Scotty could hardly understand the words.

Kelly gave as well as he received, and he stoked the fire in Scotty, bringing him higher than before, but with control, and Scotty found himself needing more, needing to possess. As they shared another kiss, he slid his hand over Kelly's hip, followed the line of muscle down until his finger rested over the entrance to Kelly's body. He felt the tension in Kelly at once, and he broke their kiss, pulling back a few inches.

They faced each other, both breathing heavily. He couldn't read Kelly's face in the darkness but he could feel him.

"Is that what you want?" Kelly's voice was low.

Scotty dropped his head, placing a kiss on Kelly's collarbone. "Only if you can give it." His hand moved slowly along Kelly's biceps, soothing.

"Do you know where the stuff is, in my bag?"

"Yeah."

"Then get it." Scotty kissed his shoulder, then got up and went rummaging in the closet for Kelly's bag. He returned with the bottle he knew Kelly used from time to time with his women. His steps faltered for a moment as he realized it must've been used with Kelly's men, as well. If Kelly had any men--he'd never brought a man home with him. But then, he wouldn't, would he?

Kelly was lying on his stomach on the bed, his face towards the wall, but he moved as Scotty returned to the bed, and he reached out to stroke Scotty's thigh.

"Are you sure?" Scotty asked, although his heart was already pounding with anticipation. Kelly lay stretched out before him, and he wanted to bury himself in him. The fierceness of that desire was overwhelming.

Kelly twisted around, looking at him. "Do you know what to do?"

"In theory."

"You ever take a woman this way?"

"Yeah." Once.

Kelly stirred, then sat up, so he was facing Scotty. He took the bottle from Scotty, poured some of the oil over his own hands, then smeared it all over Scotty's chest.

"Hey!"

Kelly grinned. "Just don't rip into me, Jack."

Scotty pounced on him. They wrestled, spreading the oil over themselves and the sheets, and then the wrestling abruptly turned to arousal, only it had a wilder edge to it now, and Scotty reveled in the realization that he needn't hold back his strength, that muscle would be met with muscle. He knew he was leaving bruises, but Kelly was marking him as well, with hands and teeth, and it was driving him to places he'd never been before.

He had to calm himself down enough to use the oil, to make sure that Kelly was ready for him, but Kelly made it difficult, urging him on, cursing him for being thorough. And then he was really there, inside Kelly, feeling him as part of himself. He bit Kelly's shoulder, unable to stop himself and Kelly hissed and swore and took Scotty in deeper. One arm flung around Kelly, the other bracing them both, Scotty lost himself in the need to move, and keep moving until, finally, he could move no more in the shattering explosion of release. His braced arm collapsed and he fell against Kelly, shuddering, riding out the after-effects.

How long he lay there he never knew, but he did eventually slide to the side, off Kelly, disengaging them. One hand he kept on Kelly's back, taking reassurance in the movement of Kelly's breathing. But as the minutes passed, the euphoria drained away and the emotions he feared came rushing back. God. God. God.

He sat up on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, his head in his hands. He'd made love to Laya last night, and now, now.... He looked at Kelly, lying there still--he couldn't blame Kelly; he'd used him, used what he knew of him. Seduced him.

_We've all become conspirators together._

Laya's voice, Laya saying they were all liars and thieves. Liars and thieves.

Scotty got to his feet, stepped to the other bed and pulled on his clothes. He looked around the room. His wallet was in his jeans, that was all he needed. He moved toward the door.

"Don't go."

Scotty stopped, his back to Kelly. "I've got to, man. I'm quitting. Getting out."

"Don't. Please."

But Scotty couldn't stay, couldn't stand to stay, and without stopping he walked out of the bedroom, out of the hotel room, out of the hotel. He kept walking, seeking the buffer that had been torn from him, releasing his grief; seeking to rebuild.

*****

Scotty closed his eyes, his fingers over his face, elbows propped on his knees. The best way to handle grief was to channel it. He knew that; it had always worked before. That night in Athens he had walked for hours, finally ending up in a cab and in line at the airport. Resign, go home, find another life where he wouldn't be a liar and a thief, where he could make sense of his life. But standing there, ready to buy a ticket, he hadn't been able to do it. He'd needed his job, he'd needed the focus of purpose. So he'd turned around and left, gone back to the hotel.

Kelly had been there, out on the veranda again, smoking as he leaned against the wall overlooking the city.

"I'm sorry," Scotty had said, standing in the doorway, not knowing what to expect.

Kelly had taken a drag on his cigarette. "For what part of it?"

"All of it. I'm sorry."

A long pause, and then Kelly had said: "Don't worry about it." He'd stubbed the cigarette out in an ash tray, then walked past Scotty into the room. "Troy called. The time off's canceled. We're to fly to Cyprus this afternoon. Pack for me, will you? I'll be back." And he had left the hotel room.

Relief at Kelly's understanding had been all that he'd felt; it was only later that Scotty remembered what Kelly had said in the hotel room in L.A., only later that he'd realized what Kelly had avoided saying. How long, in truth, had Kelly wanted him?

Scotty glanced at the coffee table, at the letters he'd left there, scattered beside the boxes. None of this was reflected in those letters; nothing of the turmoil he'd lived in and had controlled. Cyprus had been as close to a debacle as they'd ever had, but they had pulled it out in the end, burying their memories of Athens by mutual, silent consent. The partnership had held together. Cyprus had been followed by Morocco and then Greece again. They'd bounced around the Mediterranean for months, exposing Troy as a traitor, cheating death, saving each other. If anything, once they came to terms with it, they were more in sync than before. He had even started to wonder if, maybe, that night in Athens had been something of a good thing, clearing some sort of tension between them.

Feeling closed in and needing to move, Scotty grabbed his jacket and left the apartment, being careful to lock it. Instead of heading for the street, he went upstairs to the roof, knowing it would likely be empty at this time of year. He walked across the cement, glancing up to see the few stars that made it through all the lights of the city. He used to come up here to dream, to make plans, while looking at the stars. Now he had seen the stars in a clear desert sky, and from high up in the Alps, and from a different hemisphere altogether. So much time, and here he was back on the same roof, trying to keep his hands warm. He settled down, back against the brick wall of the stair exit, knees bent, his hands deep inside his jacket sleeves.

It wasn't the job. He liked his job, for all the heartache it had brought him. He'd never gone to see Vickie; he'd broken it off before it had even started, knowing that he wouldn't leave the job. Knowing, too, that she wouldn't be able to look at Kelly without thinking about Larry Brand, who hadn't come back from the dead. He'd lost Tonia and he'd lost Laya, but he was still with the job. He and Kelly were the best in the Department now--Kelly had proven it to the Department, if not to himself. The Department could throw them out to the wolves and they'd come back wearing wolf skins. They were the best team. But two weeks ago he'd blown it, even if Kelly didn't remember, and it was the partnership now hanging in the balance.

Scotty rested his head against the brick behind him. Two weeks ago he'd arrived in time to keep Sally from killing Kelly. One traitor neatly captured, one partner with a bullet wound in his arm and burns all over his hand. Scotty had taken comfort in Kelly's complaints all the way back to the stolen car. It was Kelly's silences that were to be worried about. Kelly had had it easy, being shipped off to the hospital for treatment while Scotty dealt with the enraged Sgt. Shaw and his deputies. He'd sorted it out as best he could, with help from the Department, and then he'd picked up a drug-happy Kelly from the hospital and he'd taken him home.

What had it been? Gratitude? Thankfulness? Exhaustion? All he knew was that one moment he was looking at Kelly, after getting him to bed, and the next he was kissing him, and he hadn't ever wanted to stop, although he did. Kelly had just smiled at him sleepily and said, "G'night, Duke." Scotty had sat up all night.

He'd pushed it away--he'd been pushing it away ever since Athens--but it wouldn't be pushed anymore. When had shock turned to wanting? Looking back at it, he'd been more upset by Kelly not telling him than by the homosexuality. And somewhere along the way the impossible had become not only possible but desirable. If they were any other men, in any other job. Trust a man with your life, yeah, but this...he hadn't bargained on this. Isolated as partners was one thing, but isolated as lovers? If he chose Kelly, he could lose everything else in his life--his job, his family, hell, even future jobs, outside the Department. He'd be completely dependent on Kelly, and Kelly on him.

The Department had always been ambivalent about their relationship--ready to use it, if it suited them, ready to forget it when it didn't. Blair had thought Kelly had killed Tonia to protect the partnership; Troy had assumed Scotty would be happy with a new partner. If they became lovers and anyone--anyone--ever found out just how close they were, it would be a one-way ticket to the Department's permanent home for wayward spies. The only thing they had going for them was that the Department accepted them as they were. If they were very, very careful they might pull it off until they could leave or retire without suspicion. Maybe. But the odds were long and the stakes unacceptably high.

So what choice did that leave them? He could stay here, lead a normal life, and risk suffocating in it, or he could go back, learn to sublimate, protecting them both. Or, he could go back and risk everything in a high-pressure environment that would crush them at even the slightest mistake.

Scotty stared up at the stars but there was no sign for him, and no help. The cold finally drove him inside and back to the apartment. It was only as he let himself in that he remembered his mother. He noticed first that the letters had been tidied and the boxes neatly stacked. Then, she came in from the kitchen, carrying two cups, dressed in her nightgown and robe.

"Hot chocolate. I thought you might need it."

Scotty smiled and came forward to relieve her of one of the cups. "I'm sorry, Mom. I should've--"

"Nonsense. Did you get your thinking done?" She sat down on the sofa and he sat beside her.

"You knew where I was?"

"You always did end up on the roof when you were worrying over something."

"I guess you know me pretty well." He warmed his hands around the cup and took a cautious sip of the chocolate. "How is Aunt Ruby doing?"

"Oh, she's fine. I think she misses all the excitement, though, now that Valerie is gone. That's the last of her children."

"Like you're going to miss Jo."

She smiled. "Yes, but children grow up and they need to lead their own lives. I'm happy for them." She looked him up and down. "As long as they stay in touch."

He opened his eyes wide. "I do! I write to you faithfully."

"Most of the time." She sipped her chocolate.

"Well, Mom, I get busy, you know."

"I know. That's what Kelly tells me."

He nearly choked on the chocolate. "Kelly tells you?"

"Yes. When he writes to me. He always makes sure to write to me when you're too...busy."

He stared at her.

"Well, I don't know why you're so surprised. He was right there beside you when I asked you to write every week."

"He writes to you that often?"

"No, he just sees to it that I get something every week."

"I...didn't know."

"In fact, he wrote to me this week. He said he knew I'd like to get something in the mail, even if you are here keeping me company. He was right." She placed her cup on a saucer on the coffee table and stood up. "Here, I'll show you." She walked over to the small desk near the window, and returned with a letter in her hand. "I was intending to write to him tomorrow." She held out the letter to Scotty. "See for yourself."

Scotty put his own cup down and accepted the letter.

_Dear Mom,_

_I know Scotty's there with you, but you're in the habit of receiving something from us every week and I saw no reason why this week should be any different. I hope young Alexander is behaving himself up there. You can tell him that my arm is back in shape and I'm all set for the next tournaments. I'm getting more sleep than usual without him snoring on the other side of the room._

_I've been fishing to keep myself occupied while Scotty's been gone, and I've been seeing a nice lady by the name of Elena. I met her when I went to see a man about a charter boat. Consequently, I've been doing less fishing than I had originally thought I would._

_The exciting news of the day is that I received a letter from my Auntie Alta. I told you how Scotty and I visited my aunt and uncle earlier this year, right? Well, Scotty talked me into writing to them (my man writes to everyone in the world, have you noticed?) and my aunt wrote back. She told me all the doings on the farm and how many eggs the chickens are laying and how they finally have a new roof to replace the leaky one. I have to admit, I enjoyed hearing from her and I hope she writes again._

_Well, the clock just struck the hour here and I promised Elena I'd meet her at the pool. I hope this finds you well, Mom, and that cousin Valerie's wedding went off without a hitch._

_My love to you,_

_Kelly_

Scotty was frowning by the time he arrived at the end of the letter, although he didn't know what was causing his uneasiness. He scanned through it quickly again but all he could come up with was that it sounded a little too much like Kelly's façade than Kelly himself. But then, maybe that was how he wrote to his mother.

"Alexander?"

"Yes, Mom?" He placed the Kelly's letter on the coffee table.

"Have you reached a decision?"

"No, not yet."

"Well, maybe it's best if you sleep on it." She reached to pick up both cups, but Scotty beat her to it.

"Here, I'll take care of these, you go on to bed." He carried the cups to the kitchen and set them to soak in water in the sink. Returning to the living room he found her putting Kelly's letter away on her desk. Scotty walked over to his mother and gave her a hug, kissing her on the cheek. "Good night, Mom."

She hugged him back, then laid her hand against his cheek, as she had done earlier. "You've never been one to talk about your troubles, son, and I don't suppose you'll start now."

He shook his head. "Now how is it that you can always tell when I'm troubled?"

"I'm your mother, of course I can tell." She smiled at him, mischief in her eyes. "I'll bet you thought you were fooling me in those letters of yours."

He looked at her. "Those letters?"

She nodded at the boxes. "Do you want me to prove it?"

"Yeah."

A few minutes later his mother handed him a letter from Acapulco.

_Dear Mom,_

_The locals say the weather has been glorious for this time of year but I've taken refuge in our room at Las Brisas. It's hot--beyond any heat I've felt before--and humid, and almost everyone takes siesta during the worst of it. It rained only last night but you'd never know it today. Even more than the heat, it's the glare that gets to me. Kelly and I spend most of the day shirtless, or in the pool. A few days ago we went fishing, I'm sending along the photograph of us and the fish we caught. Yes, we really did catch it ourselves._

The letter went on but Scotty had already placed it--he'd written it while waiting for Kelly to contact him, the day after their fight. When he wrote it he'd been thinking of Karolyi and brainwashing and Kelly trying to kill him. He looked up at his mother. "How--?"

"You always start a troubled letter by telling me about the weather." She smiled at his astonishment, then stretched up to kiss him on the cheek. "The only advice I'll give you is to trust your instincts, son. I love you."

"I love you too, Mom." He watched as she left the room, closing the bedroom door behind her. He looked down at the letter in his hand. They should hire her to work for the Department.

Scotty went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. It was early for him but he felt worn out. The rollaway bed was tucked away from sight behind a Japanese screen that Scotty had had shipped all the way from Tokyo for his mother. He checked the locks, then turned out the lights and climbed into the too-short bed. Kelly, he thought, was missing him, but he was getting along all right. Scotty smiled into the pillow. Trust Kelly to have found himself a woman when he was supposed to be fishing. You couldn't leave the man alone for a minute. Scotty closed his eyes. The truth was, he wouldn't leave Kelly alone in the field, no matter what. The first option, then, was out. On the thought, Scotty slipped into sleep.

He was awake again at dawn, restless and uneasy. Leaving his bed, he moved quietly into the living room. He thought he'd find a book to keep himself occupied until it was a more reasonable hour to get up. At the bookshelves, his eye was caught by the framed photo on his mother's desk. He grinned and picked it up--the "glass pants" photo from Mexico; he and Kelly clasping hands, very "buddy-buddy" as the photographer had said. He looked down into Kelly's smiling, relaxed face, and in his mind he heard: You can tell him that my arm is back in shape and I'm all set for the next tournaments.

Kelly was ready to go on, well-rested and eager, despite all the knocks, physical and mental. If Kelly could soldier on, then so could he. Match resilience with adaptability; improvisation with planning. Now that he'd faced his own desires he could control them--there wouldn't be a repeat of the kiss two weeks ago. Trust your instincts. His instincts were telling him that he'd already been away too long.

 

**PART II**

Hospital waiting rooms were the same the world over--the details might differ but they all felt the same. Scotty leaned back in his chair, arms folded and ankles crossed. All told, he had probably spent more time in hospital waiting rooms than in luxury hotels. Such was the glamorous life of a spy.

The hospital staff had tried to evict him, after admitting Kelly, but he had refused to leave. They had called security; he had placed a phone call to the embassy. Even this late at night, if you made enough noise, someone official would respond. Scotty had made the right sort of noise. A couple of phone calls later, Scotty had been allowed to stay in the waiting room. The Department, after all, owed them that much.

Scotty looked up as footsteps approached and he found himself face-to-face with Russ Conway. Russ was dressed in a dark suit, with a slightly battered hat on his head, a briefcase in his hand and a frazzled look on his face. He nodded at Scotty and sat down beside him.

Scotty raised his eyebrows. "The Department's feeling panicked?"

"I wouldn't say panicked but I have been sent to smooth things over, yes."

"At three in the morning. All the way from Washington?"

"Don't remind me. How's Kelly?"

"The doctor's optimistic. He'll be fine." Scotty wasn't going to think about the alternative.

Russ nodded. "Good. I've changed your room at Las Brisas--booked you in to one of the villas. Once you get inside you won't have to worry about stairs and you'll have a bedroom each. You can stay as long as it takes Kelly to get back on his feet."

"Is this part of the smoothing you were talking about?"

"Just part of the service. I can take you there tonight."

"I'm happy where I am."

Russ sighed. "Scotty."

"I let him out of my sight for two weeks and you people pin treason on him."

"We did not frame him for treason. We were set up, the same as he was set up. And don't forget, we lost Nate in all this mess."

After a moment, Scotty nodded. "I know we did, I'm sorry about that. The whole thing was a fiasco."

Russ took off his hat and settled more comfortably on the chair. "I haven't been fully briefed. Why don't you give me the highlighted version."

"What did they tell you?"

"That Kelly had, most regrettably, been framed for treason by a British agent. We believed it, you and he proved it wrong, the British agent is dead, and go down and smooth it."

"I suppose it's significant that they chose you."

"Yes. I've been regretting how well we get along for about six hours now."

Scotty smiled.

"Now, would you please tell me what happened? When last I left you, you were off on vacation home and Kelly was going marlin fishing in Acapulco."

"Kelly found a girl instead."

"Naturally."

"He was supposed to be finding a charter to take him spear duck hunting."

"Spear duck hunting."

"Yes, spear duck hunting. But he found the girl instead."

"This would be the Elena who is in custody and exposing several nasty plots in this paradise called Acapulco?"

"That would be the one."

Russ rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Kelly has a knack, doesn't he?"

Scotty smiled again, a little grimly. "If you want to call it that. I got home, um, the night before last, to find Hampton and Nate waiting at the hotel for Kelly. They said they had proof Kelly was collaborating with Russian agents, revealing the whereabouts of British agents all over Latin America.

"But not American agents?"

"Yes, well, old Hamp never explained that."

"Thin."

"It gets worse. So, Kelly comes in, all 'welcome home, it's great to see you' and Hampton and Nate pop out and lay it all on him. Photos, $10,000, taped phone calls and transcripts. Now, the transcripts weren't very convincing, but the money and the photos were. The only concession I could get was that Nate and I would take Kelly in to our embassy, not to the British."

"You set off in the morning and that's when Nate was killed." Russ had pulled out a notebook from his briefcase and was making notes.

"Yes. Kelly split in the confusion over Nate." Scotty's hand closed into a fist. "He was determined to prove his innocence on his own."

Russ gave Scotty a long look. "Did you meet up with him?"

Scotty nodded. "Once. He wouldn't listen to me. He took off again, got himself injured and then captured by Hampton and the others. Fortunately, he'd also found a friend--Goza--and it was Goza who helped me to find where they were keeping Kelly."

"Why didn't Hampton just kill Kelly outright?"

Scotty looked down at his feet. "I don't know. But when I got to the house it was obvious Hampton had been interrogating him." He looked up at Russ. "Hampton would've liked to have sold what Kelly knows."

"Yes." Russ glanced at his notebook, then back at Scotty. "You and Goza arrived at the house."

"We arrived, took out two of the men outside, and then I went into the house while Goza went around to the window. There was only Hampton left inside, with a gun on Kelly. Goza popped up at the window, Hampton shot at Goza, I killed Hampton. Kelly was alive so we got an ambulance out there and here we are."

Russ studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Everyone is interested in hushing this one up."

"Fine."

Russ cleared his throat. "Kelly might do better being flown to the U.S. to recover."

"We'll be fine here." Scotty looked speculatively at Russ. "Is this because they don't trust us, or because they're feeling guilty?"

"They're thinking of giving him a medal. Hampton was a rather large, rather embarrassing leak." Russ put his notebook back into his briefcase.

"Yes he was. And just remember that the next time you don't trust us. That's twice this year."

"They are very aware of that in Washington, Scotty." Russ stood up and put his hat on. "Hence the villa."

"Until our next assignment."

Russ smiled. "There is one thing more I might bring up. I have some information about a private plane that was booked...?"

Scotty smiled back. "Good night, Russ."

"I'll see you later, Scotty."

Scotty watched Russ leave. He'd check out the villa before he brought Kelly home. The Department might be wanting to make amends but it was also probable they wanted to keep them under observation.

The doctor had said that Kelly had lost a lot of blood, and he'd pushed himself to exhaustion, but that the knife wound had been surprisingly clean. They'd taken Kelly to surgery to check him out, but they were satisfied with the results. They'd given him a blood transfusion and antibiotics. Now it was a matter of waiting. If he made it through the night, then Kelly would likely recover.

Better to wait in the hospital than in the morgue. Scotty rubbed a hand over his face but the scene wouldn't clear from his eyes: Kelly slumped over his knees, passed out, his arms stretched out and tied to the iron frame of the bed, his back bloody. There had been blood on the wall as well. Hampton had been at the end of the bed, holding a gun to Kelly's head. Scotty had put all his hope into the belief that Hampton wouldn't have been threatening Kelly if he had already been dead. Frail hope, but he'd clung to it.

He'd put his gun down on the floor, as Hampton had ordered, and he'd started to move it over to Hampton when Goza had appeared at the window. Scotty hadn't hesitated a moment, he'd grabbed his gun, firing from his knees at Hampton, killing the man instantly. And then he'd leaned forward and felt for Kelly's pulse.

Scotty closed his eyes. The pulse had been weak, but there. They'd cheated death once again, and they'd cleared Kelly's name. The Department was grateful. And here he sat, at the hospital, on vigil yet again.

He stayed through what was left of the night, watching the few emergency cases that came through, and the early morning routine of the hospital waking up. Eventually, a nurse came to find him and brought him to Kelly's room. Doctor Fernandez was making a notation on Kelly's chart, outside his room, and looked up as Scotty approached.

"How is he, Doctor?"

"As well as can be expected, Mr. Scott. I am pleased at his condition. Depending on how he does, you may be able to take him home in a week."

"May I see him?"

"Yes, but only for a few minutes. Then I would appreciate it if you would go home and get some sleep. Your appearance is a poor advertisement for our services." The doctor smiled.

"Thank you, Doctor." Scotty shook the doctor's hand then went into Kelly's room. It was a single-bedded room, with a window letting the early morning sunshine in. Kelly was lying on his back on the bed, and he was hooked up to an IV line. As Scotty approached, Kelly opened his eyes.

"Hey," he said, in a subdued voice. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. You don't look so hot, though, Ace."

Kelly smiled slowly and blinked. "I've been worse." He glanced around the room. "Can I take it, as appearances suggest, that this whole thing's blown over? Or are there guards outside my door?"

"No guards. Everything is cool."

Kelly looked at Scotty with rather more focus. "You're not in trouble? You're okay?"

"Of course."

"You don't look like you're okay."

"That's because I've been up all night. What do you remember?"

Kelly closed his eyes for a moment. "The last thing I remember...well, the _last_ thing is telling Hampton to go to hell."

"Already taken care of."

"Yeah? Well, I'm not sorry about that." He peered at Scotty. "Was that your doing?"

"Yes. Goza and I got to the house in time to rescue you."

A small smile appeared. "Did you now? What about Randolph and...that other one."

"Tomas. Both dead. Elena's in custody."

The smile disappeared. "Okay."

Scotty looked away. "You're clear. The Department's even sprung for one of those fancy villa rooms at Las Brisas. Russ took care of it."

"Russ?"

"All the way from Washington D.C. We've been making waves, it seems."

"A whole flood by the sound of it." Kelly shifted on the bed, wincing.

Scotty moved forward to adjust the pillow behind Kelly's head. "Listen, they're going to kick me out soon. Is there anything you need?"

"Drink, food, and merriment," Kelly answered promptly. "Especially the merriment."

"As soon as you get on your own two feet, Jack."

"You are no fun at all." But Scotty could see that Kelly was having trouble staying awake.

"True true. I'll be back later. Behave yourself." Scotty let himself out of the room, then leaned against the wall. He was shaking. Probably it was just a lack of sleep--it had been a long two days. After a few moments he pushed himself away from the wall. He'd check out their new place, get some sleep, then come back.

In the end it was only three days before Scotty was allowed to take Kelly home, under strict instructions to keep him wheelchair-bound until the stitches were out and not to resume his normal activities until they received an okay from the doctor. Scotty resigned himself to several days of arguments.

The villa was on the fourth level of Las Brisas, accessible via outside steps and an access road that the famous pink jeeps could navigate. Inside there were two bedrooms and a shared living room; outside there was a large terrace and a private swimming pool. Scotty had found no evidence of Department surveillance but he continued to check periodically.

Kelly insisted on visiting the beach club area for drinks in the late afternoon. Scotty set them up at a shaded table, wheelchair and all, and ordered non-alcoholic drinks for both of them, much to Kelly's disgust. Goza stopped by to see them but otherwise they were undisturbed as they relaxed, listened to the live band and watched the parade of humanity.

"You never did tell me about your cousin's wedding." Kelly sat in his wheelchair, his drink half-finished.

"Oh, well, it was very nice. Valerie looked lovely, the groom looked nervous, Aunt Ruby cried copiously."

"Ah, no wonder the groom looked nervous."

"Yes, my Aunt Ruby would give any potential son-in-law pause. Which is why I never dated my cousin Valerie." Scotty smiled.

"That and certain consanguinity laws."

"It would never have worked out anyway."

"Why is that?" Kelly propped his head against the palm of his hand.

"She's Aries and I'm Cancer. We are inharmonious signs, she tells me."

"I see. I begin to have sympathy for the groom."

"Valerie did try to set me up with her best friend. She's a Virgo. Very compatible, so I'm told."

"Is that right? When's the wedding?"

"Only one problem."

"What's that?"

"She thinks London is the name of the country."

"Ah."

"And did you know that you can ride a subway from London to Paris?"

Kelly grinned. "No, I had no idea. We'll have to remember that for the next time."

Scotty sipped his drink. "I'll bet you're compatible with Virgo."

"I'm compatible with everyone."

Scotty smiled. "That's how you got into trouble this time."

"Behave yourself. I thought she was a fair damsel in distress."

"Well, next time don't respond to any distressing, all right?"

"I will ignore all screams except yours." Kelly saluted Scotty with his glass.

"See that you do, Thurman." Scotty finished his drink. "What do you say we go back to the room and order room service for dinner tonight?" He knew his suspicion about Kelly's condition was right when Kelly immediately agreed.

A week passed slowly, the days falling into a routine. Kelly, after one abortive attempt to spend a morning out of his wheelchair, gave in to the necessity of staying in it the majority of the time. In the mornings they ate the complimentary room service breakfast provided by the hotel, then Kelly would work at the very few, very light exercises the doctor had allowed him to do. The rest of the day they spent sleeping or reading or playing cards or in light conversation while Scotty floated in the pool and Kelly complained at not being allowed in. They each wrote to Scotty's mother. Several afternoons Scotty took Kelly to the beach club, keeping a watchful eye on his condition and making sure they left before Kelly was exhausted. Occasionally he caught Kelly looking at him oddly, but Kelly denied any problems, except for an abiding desire to get back to normal.

Kelly wasn't allowed into the pool, but he did take a shower every day, with Scotty helping with bandages and stitches. It gave him the opportunity to keep track of Kelly's progress.

"You're going to have quite a scar here when these come out." Scotty lightly fingered the stitches, pleased to see the healing taking place.

"Stop that, it itches." Kelly squirmed as he lay on the bed, dressed in nothing but a towel.

"Hold still, you fool." Scotty prepared the replacement bandage.

"When did the doctor say I could get these out?"

"Another three or four days." Scotty placed the bandage. "Let's get you upright." He helped Kelly to a sitting position so he could wrap the bandage into place.

"This is getting a lot easier. What do you say we go out tonight? We could go into Acapulco--"

"You're not up to that, Duke."

"Scotty, come on, I need to get out of here."

"You're still healing, Kel. Wait until the doctor takes the stitches out." Scotty took the bandage materials back into the bathroom while Kelly eased himself into his clothes.

"At least let's go to dinner at the Bella Vista, all right?"

Scotty poked his head back into the room. "If you're doing all right, maybe." He returned to his task in the bathroom.

"I'm fine! Man. Talk about over-protective mothers...a partner has nothing on that. See what he thinks when I pull this on him next time...."

Scotty listened to the grumbling with a smile, but he was careful to lose the smile before he returned to the bedroom.

The day passed in the same pattern as the others. He could get used to this life, he thought, especially if a pool was always provided. Scotty was reading a newspaper in the living room when he heard a crash and a yelp from Kelly's bedroom. He ran to the room, finding Kelly on the floor next to his overturned wheelchair.

"What happened?" Scotty hurried forward to help Kelly up onto the bed. He had changed into beige slacks but his chest was bare, a black T-shirt waited on the bed beside him.

"Nothing. I just overbalanced. I'm getting ready for dinner."

"Let me see." Scotty tried to turn Kelly but Kelly resisted, instead getting to his feet.

"I'm fine. See? I'm on my feet, no problem."

Scotty stood. "That's great, but I'm still going to check you out and then you can get back in the wheelchair."

"I will but you need to go get dressed yourself."

Scotty shook his head. "I'm thinking we should stay in, call room--"

"Scotty! Look, I'm sick of staying here.

"I hear you, Kel. But--"

Kelly moved a few steps away, turning to face Scotty. "Don't you 'but Kel' me. You've been treating me like a piece of dainty china or something and I'm tired of it. I'm fine, the stitches will be out in a few days. What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing's gotten into me. But I'm not kidding about those stitches. The doctor was very clear--"

"The doctor said to be careful and to take it easy. He did not say to wrap me up in cotton wool and confine me to the room!"

Scotty took his time responding. "You haven't been confined to your room. I just don't think it's a good idea for you to go out tonight."

Kelly's mouth thinned. "Fine. I'll go on my own." He turned away but Scotty moved forward, grabbing hold of his arm.

"Would you just listen to me for once," Scotty said, trying to be reasonable.

"If you make sense." Kelly stared at him, eyes narrowed.

"Dammit, Kel. You could have been killed."

Kelly rolled his eyes. "Scotty--"

"No! You listen to me, you dummy! You never listen to me! You go off on your own--careless as all hell--get yourself knifed, beat-up, shot, and you expect me to come along and pick up the pieces!" He shook Kelly's arm, fingers tightening. "You're sick of this place? Well, I'm sick of following along behind you, not knowing if you're alive or dead!"

"You're my partner, not my--"

"Yeah, I'm your partner, but you don't treat me like one! You don't listen to me!" One part of Scotty was appalled at the words tumbling out, but the rest of him felt nothing but relief. "Why the hell can't you listen to me? I told you I had a plane waiting for you. I could have gotten you out of here, gotten you to a safe place, and then I could've--"

"I didn't want you involved!" Kelly shoved against Scotty's shoulders, trying to push him back, but Scotty hung on to Kelly's arm. "Bad enough that my career was ruined, but yours--"

"My career? My _career_?"

"Yes, your career. I had to handle it on my own, get myself clear."

Scotty gritted his teeth. "You got yourself caught. You would have been dead if I hadn't found you."

"Okay, but--"

"My career." The absurdity of it was fuel to the fire now burning in Scotty. "Do you know what I was doing at home in Philadelphia? I was thinking of chucking in my career, you dumb fool."

"What?"

Scotty shook him and, without thought, began backing him towards the wall. "Ironic, isn't it? You were saving my career and I was planning on giving it up. Only I didn't do it. I didn't do it because I thought we had a partnership here, that you needed me. But then I get back here and you run from me, and don't listen to me." He pushed Kelly hard against the wall, his hands clamping on Kelly's shoulders. "Do you know what it was like for me coming into that room? Finding you covered in blood, looking like you were already dead, looking like you did that time in the morgue. _Damn you_!"

Anger coursing through him like blood, Scotty brought his mouth against Kelly's, pushing in, controlling him this way if in no other. Any movement from Kelly was instantly suppressed, Scotty having the advantage of weight and strength and purpose. He kissed Kelly until the rage began to abate, until he started to feel something different in the kiss, then he pulled back. Scotty looked at Kelly and saw that his eyes were closed, his face drained of color, and there was nothing but pain in his expression.

Scotty bolted, fled the room, fled the villa, running across the access road and tumbling down the steps between the levels of the casitas. How he kept his balance he never knew; if he met any other people, he never knew. He ran. One part of his brain must have been navigating but all he was consciously aware of was the remembered look of pain on Kelly's face. But better that than for Kelly's face to be drained of pain, drained of expression: passed out, dead, utterly still as it never was in life. Dead as he could have been, dead as he once was. And Scotty ran, taking the first road he found off the steps, taking great gulps of air, burning his lungs.

Finally, he stopped. He didn't stumble, didn't fall, he just stopped.

_Trust your instincts, son._

His instincts. The grief he had felt when he had stared down at Kelly's face in the morgue had burned through him like acid. Kelly was dead, by his hand. _Dead_. And his life, in that instant, had changed completely. He didn't just love Kelly, he was consumed by Kelly.

_Now listen, I happen to have lost a friend myself, a very personal friend. A guy that was like a brother to me, but you will not find me getting sentimental. It's just another assignment._

Even Vickie had seen through that, but he hadn't. He hadn't. He'd channeled his grief, channeled his anger, and he'd gone back to the case, instincts be damned. What would he have done afterwards? But it hadn't mattered because Kelly had been alive after all. And Scotty had fled to Vickie. Control. Sublimation. Utter blindness.

Scotty's breathing was returning to normal, the pain in his side and lungs subsiding. He turned around and started walking.

All right. All right. He loved Kelly; he needed Kelly. He'd been a fool to think it was desire fueled by friendship alone. He'd been a fool not to see that he'd been running from Kelly ever since Monterey, running from the overwhelming emotions he felt for him.

He loved Kelly. Such simple words, words he might have said before, without understanding the truth of it at all. Because to understand the truth of it he would have had to have acknowledged his powerlessness before it. He loved Kelly, and that made him vulnerable. He could lose Kelly through the job, through the relationship, through a hundred different methods. He courted loss daily. Was it any wonder he'd tried to run from it? He'd experienced that loss in Monterey and he knew what it would do to him.

He had come back because he didn't really have a choice. And he'd found Kelly in trouble, and he'd tried to protect him. He'd tried to over-protect him. Scotty shook his head. He should have seen that for the sign it was that he'd lost his cool, lost his control.

Slowly, Las Brisas came into sight. Scotty kept walking, doggedly going back to face what he had left behind. He felt like he'd been through a round of intense training, his muscles ached, and his legs wanted nothing so much as to collapse underneath him. But at least he was going home.

He knew the steps would be quickest, so he forced himself up them, climbing each level slowly. As he reached the third level he looked up and saw Kelly sitting on the steps above, leaning against a rock. Frowning, Scotty pushed himself quickly up the steps, concerned when Kelly didn't move.

"Kel?"

Kelly opened his eyes as Scotty bent over him. "Get me inside," he said, his voice rough with effort.

Scotty eased him up, wrapping a supportive arm around him, careful of the bandage hidden under the black T-shirt. "Can you walk?"

Kelly nodded but it was a slow climb up the remaining steps to the fourth level. Scotty was glad to see the wheelchair at the top of the steps and he helped Kelly into it, then hurried him to their villa and back into Kelly's bedroom.

"Let's get you on the bed." Scotty gently helped Kelly from the chair, aiming him towards the bed.

Kelly baulked. "I am not," he said, "going to be used by you anymore."

Scotty, his arms full of Kelly, stared at him for a moment.

"No more." Kelly's face was hard, strained.

"Yes, all right. But let me check you out first, okay?" He tried to lower Kelly to the bed but met resistance. "Kelly, please." A moment longer and then Kelly submitted to being helped onto the bed.

Scotty lifted Kelly's T-shirt, relieved to find no blood on the bandage. He unwrapped the bandage and found a small amount of blood along the stitches. "I'll be right back." He hurried to the bathroom, collecting a new bandage, a wet cloth, and other supplies. Back in the bedroom he found Kelly in the same position as before, sitting on the bed, leaning on the nightstand.

Setting to work, Scotty cleaned the blood and checked the stitches. "You've busted two stitches but the rest have held. I don't think we need to go to the hospital."

"Good."

Scotty nodded, then placed a new bandage and fixed it securely in place. He stayed seated next to Kelly on the bed, listening to Kelly breathing, staring across the room at nothing. "That's it, then," he said.

"What's it?" Kelly settled his T-shirt over his bandage.

"We'll just have to quit."

Kelly looked at him. "Quit?"

"Yes, quit." Scotty stood up, walking forward a few paces. "There's no other alternative."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Scotty glanced at him. "It's the safest thing. We'll get out, start something else up, a business or something...."

"Whoa. _Whoa_." Kelly pushed himself to his feet. Scotty started forward to help him but stopped at Kelly's emphatic gesture. "Just stay put, Jack, and start from level one. What are you talking about quitting?"

"The Department. I want you, Kel, and if it means giving up the Department--"

"You--" Kelly broke off, his hand gripping the nightstand. "We're not giving up the Department."

"Be reasonable, Kel, it's the only way we can be lovers."

"Lov--we're not lovers."

Scotty looked at him. "We were in Athens."

Kelly breathed out quickly. "In Athens, you ran away."

"I know, but--"

"You ran away in Athens, and you ran away in Monterey, and you ran away up at the lake too--for two weeks!"

Scotty held himself still. "You knew I kissed you."

"Of course I knew! You ran, and you looked for a way to get out."

"Yeah, but...I came back, man."

"Oh, oh! You came back. Well, that was brave of you, wasn't it?" Kelly's hand gripping the nightstand was shaking.

"Look, Kel, you've got to sit down." Scotty started forward but stopped again at Kelly's gesture.

"Go get us some drinks in the living room where we can talk." Kelly lowered himself to the bed, not watching as Scotty backed away, then left the room.

It had grown dark in the time they had been in the bedroom, so Scotty turned on a lamp in the living room before heading for the mini-bar for orange juice for both of them. He thought a moment, then went to the drawer in the living room where they had stashed the majority of the pain medication the hospital had sent home with Kelly. A few minutes later, when Kelly came into the room in his wheelchair, Scotty handed him the orange juice and two tablets. Kelly grimaced but he took the tablets and swallowed them. Scotty seated himself in an armchair, close to Kelly but not invading his space.

"I'm sorry about today. Earlier."

"I wish you would stop apologizing."

"But it's clear now, Kel. We--"

Kelly's head lifted. "I'm not interested."

"I'm trying to--"

"We're not getting together. We're partners and that's it." Kelly looked away. "Unless you don't want to be partners anymore."

"I love you."

Kelly closed his eyes for a moment. "Certainly, and when did this occur to you? While you were running?"

"I knew it all along but I--"

"Is that so? Funny how a person might have gotten the opposite impression."

Scotty sighed. "Okay, I know. I've been a fool. But I didn't have your experience. You're my first...."

"Man? You can't even say the word, can you? Well, listen up, Jack, because you were my first man, too."

Scotty straightened in his chair. "What?"

"The first I let fuck me." Kelly's voice was hard, his face stiff.

"That lab tech--"

"I let him suck me off." He took a breath. "And I returned the favor. End of story."

Scotty climbed to his feet, unable to sit still, moving around the room. "You said you'd slept with men. You said he wasn't your first."

"He wasn't, and I did. It was a long time ago and I had no desire to repeat the experience."

The note in Kelly's voice stopped Scotty in mid-step. He turned. "What happened?"

"There, you see! That's why I didn't tell you! It's none of your business why it happened or what happened. There are trade-offs in this world and you deal with it. That's it."

"Okay, okay." Scotty moved across the room towards Kelly. "But you gave me the impression--"

"You leaped to your own conclusions. I never brought it up again. I never wanted it brought up again."

Scotty looked at Kelly. "Athens."

After a moment, Kelly said: "That was you."

Scotty leaned down, his hands on the arms of the wheelchair. "I know what I felt. You can't lie to me about that, Kelly. Don't try."

Kelly blinked and his eyes fell.

"What we felt that night was real." Scotty straightened up. "And mutual." He moved back, giving Kelly some room.

Kelly raised his eyes. "So real that you ran away."

"I came back. I've always come back. I'm back now."

Kelly's hands were tight around the arms of the wheelchair. "I can't take the running."

"I won't run anymore." Scotty stepped closer again. "Try me."

"No!" Kelly backed the wheelchair a turn of the wheels. "Listen to me. God, you were complaining that I don't listen to you but listen to me! I don't want this. I do not want you like that."

But there were some things that Scotty was sure of. "I could prove that you're lying."

Kelly looked at him, and it seemed to Scotty that there was an echo of the pain he remembered seeing on Kelly's face earlier. It hurt. "Yeah, maybe you could. For tonight. Is it worth it?"

"Kelly." Scotty could feel it all slipping away from him and he had no idea why it was or how to stop it. "I love you."

Kelly's voice was tired. "You don't. At least, not like that. You couldn't."

"Kelly, please."

Kelly squeezed his eyes shut. "You said please that night too, and look what it got us. It took us _weeks_ to get back what we had before that night. Don't do this."

Scotty moved away, his stomach tight. "I don't believe this."

"Look, it's my fault. I shouldn't have told you--I got you curious, and in Athens, I...."

"Stop it." Scotty looked across at Kelly, seeing the tension in him. "Is it that you don't trust me? I'm seeing clearly now, Kel, I won't let you down again."

There was a pause and then Kelly said, "Think about it, Scotty. It's not just the job, it's everything: your career, your life, your mom, for God's sake. Do you want to tell her that you're a faggot?" Scotty flinched and Kelly shook his head. "There's worse they can call you and worse they can do to you."

"I'm not stupid, Kel. I know that. I know all the reasons. They're not going to stop this. The only one who can do that is you."

Kelly looked back at him, and for once Scotty couldn't read his expression. He couldn't see past the pain that he'd brought to that face. "I don't love you...enough for that." Kelly's eyes held his for a moment, then fell.

Scotty nodded slowly, and rubbed his palm up and down his bare arm. "All right. Okay." He took a breath in, then let it out, and looked up in time to see Kelly sway in his wheelchair. He forced himself to deal with it. "You're hurting. Let's get you in bed."

"No, I--"

"Don't argue with me, I can see you're ready to fall out. Just lie down for a bit and I'll check in with you later about dinner. Will you do that, please?"

Kelly nodded and Scotty wheeled him back to his bedroom. He helped Kelly into bed, the familiar act seeming almost surreal in the new reality they'd created. Kelly didn't love him. He clamped down on his emotions.

When Scotty turned to leave, Kelly stopped him with a touch on his arm. Scotty looked back and saw Kelly swallow. "Don't leave," Kelly said, as if the words were dragged from him.

"I'll be here when you wake up." He left the room, leaving the door open, and switched off the lamp in the living room on his way to the terrace. He left the terrace door open as well, and went to lean on the railing of the terrace, staring out at the Pacific Ocean.

Kelly didn't love him.

He caught his breath at the pain that caused, at the hopelessness of it. He could counter any argument but that one. And yet...it wasn't as bad as the pain of death. It didn't leave him empty and cold. Even if he lost Kelly, he'd know that Kelly was in the world.

But Kelly didn't want him. It couldn't be clearer. Scotty's hands tightened on the rail and he held onto it as if he stood in a gale wind. Kelly had turned him down. Kelly, who had a track record of choosing the worst possible women to fall in love with, and now he'd turned down Scotty. There wasn't a person in the world who understood Kelly better than he did, no one who was better for him. He'd watched as the women Kelly had chosen betrayed him or hurt him, helpless to stop it. He'd watched as another protective layer of cynicism was laid over Kelly's heart. The man had rotten luck with women.

And with men.

Scotty closed his eyes. What had he told Vickie? He had the reactions and the emotions of an alley cat. An alley cat with one kitten. A kitten who was a fully grown tomcat, fiercely independent and uncontrollable. He could force Kelly to acknowledge that he wanted him, but he couldn't force Kelly to love him.

Kelly only wanted to be his partner, his friend. He was even willing to take the blame for it all, for being the one to say no, for being the one to start it--as if that had anything to do with it. It wasn't sex Scotty was talking about. But it was like Kelly to take that blame, to try to shift any guilt from Scotty's shoulders, just as he'd tried to do that time in Uncle Harry's loft--share the blame, don't let guilt fester in the partnership.

So what was Scotty going to do? Could he stay? Could he leave? Break it down into options, work it out. But he couldn't get past the pain in order to think. He wanted to leave, to nurse his wounds. He could go home, tell Brandt he'd reconsidered. It wasn't running if he'd been pushed, was it?

_I can't take the running._

Scotty opened his eyes. Kelly hadn't denied that the feeling had been mutual in Athens. He might be trying to portray it as just experimental sex, but there had been pain in his voice when he'd talked about Scotty running. That night in Athens...maybe Scotty had started it, maybe all Kelly had felt, at first, had been vague desire, born out of their closeness. Scotty had wanted Kelly's warmth, and he'd wanted distraction. He'd wanted proof of life. Okay. But it had deepened from that, and they'd touched whatever it was between them that made them partners--it had been real, and equal. You didn't give yourself like that--as they both did--unless it meant something. And Kelly, of all people, didn't beg you to stay if he didn't mean it.

Scotty took in a shuddering breath. Had he just been congratulating himself for understanding Kelly? For being the best thing for him? Well, he certainly understood how to hurt Kelly, didn't he? Of all the different kinds of betrayals there were, desertion was the worst for Kelly: it was the one Kelly expected and yet was never prepared for. From his mother's death straight through friends' and lovers' betrayals, and now Scotty. Kelly was always left on his own.

Scotty had walked out on him, after Kelly had given in to Scotty's desires, after Kelly had asked him to stay. And yet, Kelly had still been willing to take Scotty back, to forget any of it had happened. Until tonight, when he had finally been pushed too far.

On the thought, Scotty turned, going back into the villa, through the living room and into Kelly's bedroom. The room was in darkness, and Kelly was only a shape on the bed. Scotty stopped a foot into the room, silent and still. Kelly was asleep, his breathing attesting to that.

_I am not going to be used by you anymore._

No wonder Kelly didn't believe Scotty could love him; no wonder Kelly didn't want Scotty to love him. The question was whether he'd even accept Scotty as his partner anymore.

_I don't love you...enough for that._

It was possible, even probable that Kelly was telling him the truth. Kelly might leave out part of the truth, he might deliberately misdirect, but he rarely maintained a lie to Scotty. Maybe there had been an opportunity for love once, but that door was shut now. Shut and bolted. Kelly had trusted him and Scotty had trampled that trust into the dirt.

Scotty breathed out and he let the pain and the grief wash through him, accepting them as his due. He had no control over Kelly, and it was past time to stop trying. He couldn't change the past, all he could do was go on from here--try to rebuild trust, try to keep Kelly in his life, if Kelly would have him. He knew only one thing for certain: he wasn't leaving Kelly alone in the field. The bottom line hadn't changed.

Scotty left the room, wandering back out onto the terrace, and eventually settling on the chaise lounge. There was nothing more for him to do but to wait.

It was more than two hours later when Scotty heard movement from inside the villa. When he walked back into the living room he saw a light on in Kelly's bedroom, so he went in, and found Kelly in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. Their eyes met in the mirror.

"Are you hungry?" Scotty asked. "I'll order room service. Or...if you still want to go out...."

Kelly spat out the toothpaste. "It's a bit late for going out. Room service will be fine." He glanced at Scotty. "You know what I like."

"Okay." Scotty backed out, returning to the living room and calling in the order for food. He settled back in the armchair, trying to calm his stupid nerves. He hated feeling helpless.

After a few minutes, Kelly rolled into the room, still looking tired, and wary. Well, it was better than a falsely cheery front.

"How are you feeling?" Scotty asked, wondering what sort of reaction he'd get to that seemingly innocuous question.

"Okay." Kelly paused while he maneuvered the wheelchair to a place opposite Scotty. "I'll be glad when these stitches come out."

"I'll check them again in the morning to be sure...." He trailed off, suddenly uncertain about liberties he'd taken for granted for years.

"Yeah, okay." Kelly looked up as if suddenly recognizing Scotty's silence. He stared at Scotty, and then he said: "I don't want things to be different."

After a moment, Scotty nodded. "They don't have to be." He'd make sure of that. Somehow.

Some of the tension seemed to drain from Kelly, and from the room. "All right." Kelly nodded and smiled. "I need to take a shower tomorrow anyway. I'd appreciate the help."

A knock on the door heralded the delivery of dinner. Scotty and the waiter placed the food on the table while Kelly took care of the drinks: water for both of them. Scotty had ordered steaks, roasted potatoes, frijoles with cheese and green beans. Kelly looked over the food and grinned.

"You like?" Scotty sat at the table.

"I like that I won't have to lie to your mother."

"Good. You can write to her tomorrow, before you forget."

Kelly cut into his steak. "I never forget."

"Yes. She pointed that out to me when I was home. You're the reliable son."

Kelly beamed. "Is that so?"

"Yes, the wonderfulness of your reliability. She really appreciates it."

"You've got a special lady there, my friend." Kelly drank some of his water. "But I can't tell her you're eating your greens if you don't eat them."

Scotty grimaced. " _After_ the steak."

Kelly helped himself to a second helping of green beans. "They're good, man, you should try them."

"You think mixing maple syrup with eggs is good."

"And there are many like me all over the world."

"Lord help us all." Scotty finally relaxed. He understood this, he could do this. They were falling naturally into their own kind of conversation, their own kind of rhythm. Sometimes it seemed like they were just continuing the same conversation, over all the years, and over all the topics--they never really stopped. Now, maybe, it would keep them together, get them back to the status quo.

So they talked, and they delighted in it, and it carried them through dinner and back to themselves. It didn't all look quite so hopeless as long as he had Kelly with him.

Scotty prepared coffee for them after dinner, clearing away the dishes for room service to pick up.

Kelly stretched in his chair, then reached for his coffee. "I suppose they'll kick us out of here when my stitches come out."

"It seems likely, but that'll depend on what the doctor says." Scotty sat at the table, his legs stretched out in front of him.

"If he'll just let me swim I wouldn't mind staying here a bit longer." Kelly glanced around the room.

"Maybe we can convince him it's in your best rehabilitative interests to stay here. Although he's more likely to tell you to stay away from steps. And, by the way, that was a damn fool thing for you to do today, just because you were bored with the room."

"I wasn't bored." There was a strange pause and then Kelly continued smoothly, with less volume: "I was going stir-crazy. Perfectly understandable in the circumstances."

But Scotty hardly heard him because he had suddenly realized just what Kelly must have been doing on those steps. "You followed me, didn't you?"

Kelly frowned. "Well...."

Scotty shook his head rather wonderingly. "That's just what I would've done."

Kelly rolled his eyes. "Well then that's two fools for the price of one."

"Yeah." Scotty stared at the opposite wall, finally seeing, with bright clarity, at least one of Kelly's motives. Protection. Protect your partner. It was ingrained in every partnership, and deeply embedded in their own. Only it was easy for Scotty to sometimes forget that he wasn't the only one who felt that, to forget that Kelly would do his utmost to protect _him_ , whether Scotty agreed or even knew about it. Finding Randolph and Hampton on his own was a prime example. Following Scotty down the steps was another.

Dimly, he heard Kelly going on at some length next to him, but Scotty was thinking back to Monterey and to that lab tech. I had no desire to repeat the experience. No, but he'd do it to protect Scotty, to keep Scotty from being found out and possibly killed.

And in Athens? "Kel," Scotty interrupted the flow of words he hadn't heard.

"What?"

It was a measure of their progress that night that Scotty could ask. "Back in Athens--was Troy leaning on you about me?"

Kelly raised his eyebrows. "Why do you--"

"Just tell me, all right?"

Kelly hesitated and then he shrugged. "Yeah, a little. He was worried you were--"

"--in over my head." Scotty nodded. "I remember." So Troy had leaned on Kelly for Scotty to get on with it and Kelly knew just what Troy was capable of. Taking the armaments list, then, had been at least as much about defense as offense. And Kelly, seeing Scotty's deepening involvement with Laya, could easily have thought of it as a sort of litmus test. The chances had been slim that he and Laya, citizens of enemy states, could have lasted, even without the stress of their respective duties. Get the inevitable over with--that was Kelly's style. What if they had come through it, with romance intact? Then Laya would have proven herself, in Kelly's eyes, to be worth Scotty risking everything for her. _I did it for the job._ Oh no, Kel, that wasn't the half of it.

"Scotty?" Kelly was looking at him with wariness again.

"You do love me." He saw Kelly freeze, and he shook his head, feeling a vast, giddy relief. "No, Kel, don't worry about it. It's okay." He smiled, and saw that Kelly was further unnerved, but he couldn't help it. "I'll give it to you straight, Kelly, because here it is and it's not going to change. I love you. I'm not putting any pressure on you, I'm not laying anything heavy on you. It just is. I can't change that I love you and I don't want to change it. I know, too, that you love me. Maybe not in the same way, okay, but it's there."

"Scotty, I told you, I can't--"

"It's all right. You don't have to. The thing is, I'm staying. We're partners. Regardless."

Kelly was looking at him, narrow-eyed. "For a man who's not getting what he wants, you sure are awfully cheerful."

The smile widened. "Annoying, isn't it?"

Kelly sighed. "But not entirely unexpected. You've been annoying since the day I met you."

"As have you, Homer."

"At least we're in good company. Well, come on, fool, let's take our coffee out onto the terrace."

They went outside and the subject was allowed to be dropped. They sat for a long time on the terrace, talking when they felt like it and watching the stars and listening to the sounds of the hotel and the ocean. Scotty felt at peace, as calm as the ocean was that night. He had his bedrock certainty: they loved each other. They'd protect each other above all others--even when that protection was unwanted or was a cause for strain between them. Maybe Kelly was right and the love he felt for Scotty wasn't enough. But that depended on what was going on in Kelly's head. Clearly sex wasn't a problem, nor the quality of the love Kelly felt for him. It might be several things, but Scotty rather thought that Kelly had tried to lie to him, and had ended up in a misdirection, trying to distract Scotty, at the very least. Was Kelly protecting himself, not trusting Scotty after the way Scotty had used him? Was he protecting Scotty, doing what he thought was best for Scotty by protecting his career and his relationship with his family? Either way, there was hope, and time was on his side.

The next three days passed quickly, more easily than the week before, rather to Scotty's surprise. It was as if a thunderstorm had finally broken, and everything was clearer. The doctor was pleased enough with Kelly's progress to take the stitches out. Kelly celebrated by spending much of the following day in the pool. The day after that, they received their orders: pick up a package arriving in Veracruz and deliver it to Mexico City.

"They also want us to get you back in tennis shape," Scotty informed Kelly, looking at the decoded orders. Kelly groaned but went ahead and got started with the packing.

Veracruz was not one of Scotty's favorite cities and this time around it was all the worse for putting the first serious dent into his newfound contentment. They had to wait a few days in Veracruz and, not unnaturally, Kelly wanted to hit the nightspots. It was part of their cover and something they both enjoyed, although Kelly was the one who tended to stay out all night.

That Kelly would pick up women was inevitable and not unexpected. That, too, was part of the job and Scotty generally enjoyed watching Kelly on the prowl. There was nothing threatening about it as Kelly had long ago realized the incompatibility of his job and a serious relationship with a woman. But Scotty hadn't anticipated Kelly setting up a double-date.

"No, I'd rather stay in tonight. You go for yourself." They were in their hotel room, Kelly dressing for the evening.

"Come on, Scotty, it'll be fun."

"No."

"You should see this girl, man--"

"Look, I'm not ready for a substitute just yet, all right?" He saw the change come over Kelly, the withdrawal, and he closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm not limiting you, and I don't want to."

"You said no difference--"

"I meant it. I still do. But don't push it right now, okay?"

Kelly, after a pause, nodded and returned to getting dressed. A few minutes later he was ready. "I'll see you later, then."

"Good night. Behave yourself."

"You too."

After Kelly had gone, Scotty raised his eyes to the ceiling, castigating himself for being a fool. He'd said that there wouldn't be any difference, but it was proving more difficult than he had anticipated. Maybe because he'd allowed himself to hope.

Scotty flung himself on his bed, grabbing a book off the nightstand. Fifteen minutes later he gave up on that, not remembering a word of what he'd read. Kelly hadn't called him on it; Kelly wanted it to be back to normal as much as Scotty did. Except Scotty didn't really want that.

Reaching for pen and paper, he wrote to his mother, being careful to avoid any comment on the weather. After that he got up and wandered around the room, putting away some clothes, straightening Kelly's bed. And finally he acknowledged to himself that maybe he'd've enjoyed being out with Kelly, even with the girls. It would have been better than staying here fretting that he'd blown it. It wasn't as if he didn't enjoy being on the prowl himself.

The truth was he'd never been in this position, unable to court, unable to do anything to try to get what he wanted. He knew Kelly loved him and he believed Kelly was denying the scope of that love to protect one or both of them. It would take time, but he'd prove Kelly's fears groundless. And, even if that day never came--even if--he'd still be doing the same thing. He wasn't leaving Kelly on his own.

At least he had the real Kelly, the man that wasn't generally on display for all to see. He still had that, even after all their difficulties; he still had the man he'd found after they were partnered. If he'd gone out with Kelly tonight he would have enjoyed the act, perhaps all the more for knowing that Kelly didn't act in front of him. In the final analysis, Scotty wouldn't trade that truth for all the sex in the world. But he wanted the sex as well. He wanted to touch and to be touched; he wanted possession, he wanted to be possessed.

With a frustrated growl, Scotty flung himself down on his bed, unzipping his jeans and reaching in to touch himself. He rarely did this, rarely had the need to do this, or the privacy, but tonight it was all he had. In his darker moments he wondered if it would be all he'd ever really have. So he thought of Kelly and he thought of that night in Athens and what it had felt like to kiss Kelly, to hold him, to run his fingers along the long muscles in his arms and legs. He thought about the taste of him, and the sounds he'd made while Scotty had touched him, and had entered him, and had claimed him. After climax, the loneliness he found was worse than before, hearing only his own breathing, feeling only expected touches.

"Oh, Kel."

After awhile, Scotty rolled out of the bed and went to take a shower, concentrating on the present rather than the future, or the past. He returned to bed, book in hand, and doggedly persevered through two chapters. Powerlessness was still better than emptiness: he'd make do with what he could get.

Kelly arrived home in the morning, heavy-eyed and grumpy. Scotty raised his eyebrows at him. "Rough night?"

Kelly only grunted on his way to the bathroom.

"Shall I call down for coffee?"

"I wish you would." Kelly disappeared into the bathroom and a few minutes later Scotty heard the shower start. Feeling more lighthearted, Scotty called room service.

The package they were expecting arrived that afternoon. They spent one more night in Veracruz, eating at one of the better restaurants now they were on duty, and started out for Mexico City in the morning.

They'd rented a red convertible this time around and Scotty had every intention of keeping it until they were told to leave Mexico. He liked the feel of it underneath him, and the response of the motor when he asked for more speed.

Kelly had slept, on and off, through much of the morning, but he surfaced fully in time for lunch at a small village, waxing eloquent on the merits of enchiladas verdes. Kelly took over the driving duties after lunch but when Scotty would have dozed off himself, he found that Kelly wanted to talk.

"So what were you going to do instead of being in the Department?"

Scotty opened one eye and peered at Kelly. "When do you mean?"

"You said you were thinking of getting out, when you were home in Philadelphia."

It wasn't the question so much as the tone of voice that had Scotty sitting up straighter, the thought of sleep banished. "I had a job offer at Temple."

"Is that so? Linguistics?"

"Yes. Assistant professor, dependent on finishing my doctorate."

Kelly nodded. "But you turned them down."

"Well, how else would I get any of this fine food, like what we've just been having?"

"You turned them down because of me."

"Don't give yourself airs; this isn't blackmail. I like my job, Kel. You know that. I'm good at it."

"Certainly." He was silent for about a half mile. "But you think we should quit, if we were to get...involved."

"Not necessarily."

Kelly frowned. "You said--"

"That's when I was trying to control everything. I've realized I can't do that."

Kelly gave him a frankly skeptical look. "Does that mean you're not going to order me around all the time, Jack?"

"Well...."

"That's what I thought." He lapsed into silence and Scotty, after a bit, slumped down again, eyes closed. "You do realize how crazy you are?"

"To take you on? Yes, I do."

"If the Department found out...."

"We'd have to be better than they are."

"You'd better believe it."

"But then you've always liked insane odds."

Kelly was quiet for another two miles. "And your mom. How could you do that to your mom?"

Scotty drew in a long breath. "I don't know, Kel. I just know that it's what I want. I want to be with you--as a lover or as a partner, preferably both. She knows you're in my life."

"There's a world of difference in what you're talking about."

"Is there?"

"I'm not doing it. You'll thank me one day."

Scotty closed his eyes. "You keep telling yourself that."

In Mexico City they delivered the package without incident and then found themselves on standby. They settled into a hotel and started working in earnest to get Kelly back into shape. Scotty started him on stretches and the gym equipment available at the embassy. Eventually they moved on to the tennis court. Scotty relaxed into the familiarity of coaching Kelly, getting him to pay attention to his footwork, finding ways to test and stretch his game. It was rare that they had the opportunity to really work out over any length of time, and Kelly's game improved under the program.

Scotty heard back from his mother and she asked him point-blank what was wrong with him. He did his best to reassure her but doubted he'd succeeded.

Kelly dated while they were in Mexico City, and Scotty, having learned his lesson, accompanied him on a couple of double-dates. It was easy to fall into the rhythm they'd established long ago, and Kelly didn't again bring up the topic of Scotty's love. But Scotty did catch Kelly watching him from time to time, with a half-puzzled, half-irritated look that wasn't hard to decipher.

One night, strolling home through a park after an evening of good food and music, Kelly stopped in a secluded, shadowed spot to light a cigarette. Scotty knew, _knew_ , that it was a come on. That he could lean forward and kiss Kelly and Kelly would go into his arms and they could go back to the hotel and it would be Athens all over again, only better. He wanted it, wanted it badly, and he only just stopped himself from taking it.

"Nice night," Kelly said, his voice low.

"Yeah. But a little chilly." Scotty got them moving again and the moment passed, but it left him shaking inside. It had to be Kelly's move. The only way they could survive it would be if it were Kelly's move. Kelly wouldn't be able to blame it on seduction, or on the needs of a friend. If Kelly could find an excuse, he could find a way out. For all that it killed him, Scotty knew it had to be Kelly's choice that led them to become lovers, or Kelly's choice that kept them from it.

The next day, Kelly demolished him on the tennis court, running him from corner to corner, baseline to net, and back. In trying to reach for a streaking ball that just touched the chalk, Scotty overbalanced, landing heavily on his side. He rolled onto his back, breathing heavily, and saw Kelly easily vault the net and come towards him.

"Matte," he said, as Kelly knelt down beside him.

"You're gettin' old, Duke." There was a fine sheen of sweat over Kelly, but otherwise he was in the pink.

"Old and bruised and worn out. But I'd say you're ready for a tournament. I'm ready for that whirlpool thing they've got here."

When Kelly didn't answer, Scotty looked up, straight into Kelly's eyes as he leaned over him. _He's going to kiss me_ , he thought, and fast on the heels of that he understood why. "If you kiss me here, whether we get thrown out of the Department or not, it's not going to get rid of me."

"You're a fool."

"Very, very true, but I have your number."

"Do you?" Kelly sprang to his feet. "Come on," he extended a hand to Scotty, "let's get your bruises seen to."

Scotty accepted the hand, climbing to his feet. Manipulation was second nature for them both. If you couldn't win, change the rules or change the circumstances. But he was as good at that game as Kelly was, and the bottom line wasn't changing. Kelly would have to work a lot harder than that to get rid of him (or to save Scotty from himself), if that's what he wanted. Or, just maybe, Scotty was starting to get through to him.

The Department finally acknowledged what they all knew--there was no work--and sent them off on a vacation through Mexico. Keep busy, keep circulating, keep up the cover, stop kicking your heels in Mexico City. So they took off in the convertible and followed their whims and a guidebook, finally arriving in Guanajuato, a beautiful, historic city in the hills of central Mexico. They settled into a hotel there, and Kelly found a tour guide, Rosy, who was happy to show them around, and happy with Kelly in particular.

Work had a way of creeping up on them, though, so Scotty wasn't too surprised to find that they had, by chance, landed in the city in time to help an old friend. Tom Mathews had been one of the first agents they had worked with after being teamed. They had helped him to capture Frank Hunter, a terrorist who favored explosives over guns. Quite by accident, Kelly and Scotty saw Hunter in Guanajuato, when he was supposed to be in prison in the United States. They called Russ and were put on the case, told to find Tom Mathews and his family before Frank Hunter carried out his threat to kill them. Tom Mathews, it turned out, had retired to Guanajuato.

Twenty-four hours later it was all over: Frank Hunter was dead, the Mathews family was safe, and they'd prevented Hunter's attempt to murder the family by planting a bottle of nitroglycerine in the birthday piñata of Tom's young son. In gratitude, Shirl Mathews had asked them to stay for the belated birthday celebration and for dinner afterwards, along with Rosy who was able to find them a replacement piñata.

Scotty thoroughly enjoyed the party, and enjoyed the company, catching a glimpse of what life might be like outside of the Department. He had been relieved to find that he and Kelly worked as well as ever together--this hadn't been a repeat of Cyprus. True, he had fallen victim to Hunter himself, allowing him to escape, but he and Kelly had been in sync, and they'd won in the end.

He was taking a short stroll after dinner, trying to wake himself up, when he discovered a hammock slung between trees in the back of the house. Scotty paused. He looked at the hammock. He looked towards the house where the adults had gathered in the courtyard, sitting with their after-dinner coffee, quietly talking. He looked back at the hammock. With a sigh of pleasure he climbed in and relaxed into the sway of the webbing, lulled almost immediately into sleep.

He was awakened, much later, by a hand covering his mouth. In a second he'd grabbed his assailant's arm and brought him down, only to find himself tumbling out of the hammock and landing on top of Kelly.

"Good reflexes," Kelly wheezed.

"Why did you do that?" Scotty picked himself up off Kelly, then turned to glare at him.

"Well, Kato, it seemed like a good idea at the time." Kelly climbed to his feet, stretching and rotating his shoulder. "A man wants to know his partner is prepared for all eventualities. I can now rest assured that you won't be caught, uh, sleeping in a hammock."

"I was having a good dream, man. You'll remember that we didn't get any sleep last night." The sun had gone down while Scotty had rested, and the outside house lights had come on, providing a pleasant glow to the evening.

"There you go--why should you have what I haven't?"

"Spoken like a true dirty, rotten, stinking spy." Scotty stretched, then looked around. "Where is everyone?"

"Shirl is putting Paul to bed, Maria is cleaning up, I already took Rosy home and Tom is preparing drinks for us. Come on, one more round before we hit the road."

"You took Rosy home?"

"Yes." Kelly's answer was short and sharp. Scotty hid a grin.

He followed Kelly to the front courtyard and settled into a chair while Tom handed him a cool glass of Coke. Kelly sat next to him, drink in hand, and Tom took the third chair, relaxing back with a sigh.

The air was cooling now that the sun was down, but it was still balmy enough to be comfortable. They were surrounded by the quiet of the countryside, with very little traffic on the road beyond the walled courtyard. Inside the house, Maria was singing softly to herself as she washed the dishes.

"You've made yourself a beautiful place here, Tom." Scotty gazed around, thinking that one day he'd like his life to be as peaceful.

"Yes. When Shirl and I were looking for a place to retire to, this was the first area I thought of."

"Were you stationed in Mexico?" Kelly took a sip of his drink.

"Yes, about fifteen years ago. I fell in love with the country, with the people here. But then it was on to the next place."

"Do you miss it at all?" Scotty asked. "Being in the Department?"

Tom shook his head. "No, I don't. Not once I found Shirl and we had Paul. That put things into perspective for me. I wasn't happy with the desk job anyway, and Shirl never did approve of the Department. We had to tell too many lies, hide too many things from our friends and family. It was no life for Shirl, or for Paul." He smiled at them. "Are there things I miss? Yes, but most of those were lost when I left the field. And, frankly, after today's scare, I realized I'm too old for all the excitement."

Kelly raised his glass to him. "Here's to a peaceful, and safe, retirement."

"With Frank Hunter out of the picture--thanks to you both--it should be." Tom drank some of his wine. "What about you two? Any thoughts of getting out?"

While Scotty hesitated, Kelly spoke up: "Scotty's the one with the prospects, both in and out of the Department. I'm just an aging tennis bum."

"With enough connections to ease your way, if you ever found yourself bored or desperate enough to try it." Scotty leaned towards Tom. "The truth is he still likes the decoder rings. Gives him a thrill every time."

"Don't forget the monocles and the fog that seems to follow us around everywhere."

Tom grinned at them. "All right, but give it ten years and then you might want to come back to Guanajuato. There's a lot to be said for peace and quiet."

"And a family to share them with," Kelly added.

Shirl came out of the house, putting an arm around Tom's shoulders. "I hope you two will come in and say goodnight to Paul. He seems to think that it's necessary to conclude his birthday just right."

So they all filed in to wish Paul a happy birthday one more time, and then Kelly and Scotty took their leave of Tom and Shirl. They strolled down the lane to the road where they'd left their car, in no hurry now that they were back on vacation. Once they were at the car, however, Kelly touched Scotty's arm, stopping him.

"I meant to ask before, how's your nose?"

Scotty looked at him suspiciously. "It's fine, why?"

"We never did get an ice pack for it."

"I'm still writing that report."

"Did I say anything about the report? You don't trust me." Kelly was far from mournful.

Scotty smiled. "Let's just say I've learned from experience."

"It's a pity you didn't use some of that experience to stop Frank from hitting you on the nose."

Sighing, Scotty leaned against the car. "He didn't hit me on the nose."

Kelly's eyes widened. "He didn't--"

"No, he chopped me on the neck and I fell on my nose."

"Oh. I see." Kelly looked at him sideways. "In other words, you still goofed."

Scotty sighed again. "In other words I still goofed."

"I suppose you could always consider retirement."

"Not while you're still in the field."

Kelly kept his eyes on Scotty but he was quiet for several moments. "You're not going to give up, are you?"

"Give up what? The job? Being your partner? Wanting you? No, I'm not."

"I watched you with Paul yesterday, coaching him on the best way to strike the piñata. You'd make a good father."

Scotty shrugged. "I like kids, and I like Paul. But fatherhood doesn't really seem to be in the cards for me."

"It should be."

"Why?"

There was a pause. "What do you mean, 'why?'" Kelly was clearly irritated.

"I mean just that: why? Sure, I once thought about kids, about that sort of family--who doesn't? But thinking about it and wanting it are two different things. I'm content with a family of two."

"What about ten years from now?"

"What about it? I can't know where I'll be in ten years, or where you'll be. I hope we're together, but we could be dead, one or both of us. The odds aren't really in our favor."

Kelly was silent, jingling the car keys in his hand. Scotty waited for him, comfortable and oddly content. This was where he was meant to be, and he wouldn't think beyond it. He supposed that was the biggest change in himself in the last five years--he had learned to live in the present. Given their jobs, it wasn't feasible to make many long-term plans. He had set some money aside, had some vague ideas about how he might leave the job, and that was it--except for Kelly. He'd make a future with Kelly, if given half a chance. And then he caught his breath as he felt Kelly's hand sliding down his arm, taking his hand and clasping it. Wondering, Scotty returned the pressure, his heart suddenly picking up tempo.

Kelly's voice was quiet. "I meant, would we make it back to Guanajuato?"

"If we're together," Scotty said, "we can do anything."

"It would give Tom and Shirl something of a shock. Although I don't know why, everywhere I go people ask me if you're with me."

Scotty wasn't paying as much attention to the conversation as he was to Kelly's thumb rubbing the back of his hand. "Kel?"

Kelly sighed and moved a step closer. "If you're not going to give up then we might as well get it over with."

Scotty smiled slightly, tightening his grip on Kelly's hand. "Not the most romantic of declarations."

Kelly moved in close and kissed him, a slow kiss of promise. "Better?"

"Yeah." Scotty was still smiling.

"Let's go back to the hotel."

Kelly drove quickly back to Guanajuato, threading through traffic once they'd entered the city. They parked the car and went up to their room, stopping only at the front desk to check for any messages. Once they were in their room, and the door was safely shut behind them, Scotty reached for Kelly's hand.

"You're sure?"

"As you are." Kelly was looking at him seriously, his mouth unsmiling.

"You said, before, you didn't love me enough."

"I...underestimated."

"Underestimated." Scotty grinned, and he put his arms around Kelly, pulling him close, savoring the feel of him. "You're an idiot, Kel."

"Oh now, that I know." Kelly brought his hands to Scotty's head and then he kissed him. It was electric, just as Scotty remembered, the feel of Kelly's mouth moving against his, and he opened to him, accepting Kelly's tongue. He had been starved for this for so long and so to have it, finally, to have everything, was overwhelming. Heart already pounding, he pulled Kelly's jacket off him, and then his shirt as well, tossing them to the floor. Scotty took off his own jacket and shirt, then he grabbed hold of Kelly's hand, tugged him into the darkened bedroom, and once there, he returned the kiss with interest. He was thinking that they could take it slow, no need to rush, this was only the first of many times, but Kelly's hands were moving on him, finding sensitive areas, and desire flamed through Scotty. His last sensible thought was that they should get their jeans off, but when he unbuttoned and unzipped, Kelly seemed to take that as an invitation, and Scotty lost himself to sensation.

They made it to the bed, Kelly a live-wire in Scotty's arms, all heat and spark. Scotty surrendered to the demands made through mouth and teeth and hands, blind need already roaring within him, almost frightening in its intensity. He pushed against Kelly, rolling them, seeking to take the lead, but he gasped as he was pushed back and pleasure danced along his nerves. Ambushed by his overloaded senses, he capitulated to the hands that were seducing and controlling him. He knew only touch and need, desperate for release and yet craving more. When he felt Kelly probing at his anus, he could only groan, wanting and not wanting, too strung-out to do anything but trust. He gave himself up to Kelly, and then he was shifted and his cock was bathed in heat and suction, and he was shouting and coming, flashpoint reached and gone like a detonation.

He fell back against the bed, holding tight to Kelly, as if to an anchor. Scotty's hands found Kelly's head and he lifted him, kissing him hard, feeling Kelly's shudder, his thumb sliding through the slickness of sweat on Kelly's cheek.

Panting, and slow to recover, Scotty lay on his back as Kelly slid to his side, curling away from Scotty in the narrow bed. He didn't know how to describe what he felt, what it had been like for him, how he had both loved and hated it. Desire and sensation had ripped through him, stripping him of control, of restraint, even of common sense. With a sudden, growing sense of panic he realized he would have allowed anything, would have given everything that was demanded of him without hesitation. He'd learned to live with the vulnerability of overwhelming emotions, but he hadn't bargained for the same in physical terms. God, but he had never expected this; didn't know if he could--

Scotty sat up, still breathing heavily, and he found Kelly beside him, already asleep, his back to Scotty. Kelly. It had been Kelly doing that to him, showing him the difference he had courted without full understanding. And it was just like Kelly to push to the boundaries, to demonstrate the possibilities, even if they were disturbing. Go in with your eyes open, Kelly would say. He reached out a hand towards Kelly, not quite touching, yet still feeling the connection that bound them. The panic died down. Okay. Intensity was part of the bargain, as was fluctuating control and dominance. He was as vulnerable in bed as out of it, but at least he wasn't alone in that. Shifting on the bed, Scotty leaned over Kelly, dropping a kiss on his cheekbone, tasting salt. And then he realized that it wasn't sweat on Kelly's face.

Tears? He leaned over Kelly again; there was little he could see in the dark, yet still he knew he was right. Kelly didn't move, and Scotty recognized all the signs of exhausted sleep, a state he and Kelly were both familiar with. He pulled back, leaning against the headboard on the bed. Tears from exhaustion? Tears from the intensity of it? Scotty had been shaken by it; perhaps Kelly had been too, taken unaware although he had been the one to push it. More than push it--Kelly had orchestrated that sex, and Scotty knew where Kelly had gotten such an intimate knowledge of all of Scotty's pleasure points. Kelly had used his own confidences against him.

Against him? No, he had just wanted Scotty to see exactly what could--

_If you're not going to give up then we might as well get it over with._

Get it over with; get the inevitable over with. In Kelly's mind, all he had to do was show Scotty what, exactly, he was leaving himself exposed to, and Scotty would freak out and leave. A test? No. With sudden, chilling clarity, Scotty understood the meaning behind the tears: not a test but a tactical maneuver with a foregone conclusion. Oh, he could see Kelly's thoughts, the plan that had come together. It was Mexico City all over again, only more subtle, and more damaging.

Scotty climbed out of the bed, found his dressing gown and wrapped it around himself, then sat in the armchair at the end of the bed. That Kelly could do that to him, be so cold-bloodedly manipulative, give him the taste of love and then snatch it from him. Scotty closed his eyes, his fists clenching as he rode out the emotions, trying to contain them. He'd felt such relief, such joy, when Kelly had kissed him. Such devastating joy, turned now to ashes, all hope gone.

Maybe he was wrong, maybe he was jumping to conclusions. There had still been that connection between them, he'd felt it--Kelly couldn't hide that. But then, the plan wouldn't have worked without that foundation between them. Scotty would never submit to anyone else; would never expose himself so. Kelly had known exactly what he was doing and he'd granted Scotty no opportunity to change the sequence. There had been little sharing in that lovemaking, just sex and dark desire, and...silence.

Scotty opened his eyes, and he glanced towards the dark shape on the bed. Silence. Kelly hadn't talked to him, hadn't made a sound. He remembered Kelly in Athens and knew, then, that his guess was correct. Silence was ever Kelly's way when emotion went too deep, when he was resolved on a course of action that was bitter. This hadn't been lovemaking; this had been something else entirely. Every move had been finely calculated to feed Scotty's fears, to send him running. For what? Revenge? Protection? He couldn't guess that, but he'd find out. By God, he would find out.

Standing, Scotty moved to the door of the bedroom. They'd left the light on in the other room, and now he opened the door so that the light illuminated the bed well enough for Scotty to see Kelly. He then returned to the armchair to wait.

It seemed a long time before Kelly stirred, although Scotty thought it probably wasn't more than an hour, if that. He'd hoped he'd cool down before he had to deal with Kelly, but he was still angry, still sick at heart. His armchair was in shadow, and he held himself very still as Kelly rolled onto his back. A moment later Kelly sat up quickly, and Scotty saw that Kelly was looking at the other, unoccupied bed. Kelly's head dropped and his breath came out in a sigh.

"Relief or disappointment?"

Kelly's head shot up and he turned quickly on the bed. Scotty reached up and turned on the lamp next to the armchair. Kelly was staring at him wide-eyed, his muscles gathered to move. Looking at him, Scotty saw something that he'd only rarely seen before in Kelly: fear. As well he might.

"I'm still here." Scotty watched Kelly, naked and vulnerable before him, and he waited.

Kelly wet his lips before he spoke. "I can see that."

"I'm sorry your plan backfired."

Kelly pulled himself up against the headboard. "Are you?"

"No. Not at all. You bastard."

Kelly looked down.

"No defense? You're not even going to pretend you don't know what I'm talking about? What was the plan if I didn't run, Kel?

At that, Kelly looked at him. "Can you blame me for thinking you would?"

"That's your excuse, is it?"

"You've run before."

"But not this time. I told you I wasn't running anymore."

Kelly's eyes narrowed. "How close did you come to running?"

Scotty took a deep breath, working on his temper. "Almost. I almost did it. I wasn't expecting to be tricked while making love." He saw Kelly flinch. "So, yeah, I almost left, even before I realized what it was, because you were right, Kel, it worked. I panicked. And then I looked at you, and I knew it was all right because it was you, because I could trust myself to you."

Kelly was silent, eyes downcast, and Scotty could no longer stand it. He got up from the chair, stalked to the bed and grabbed Kelly by the chin, forcing Kelly to look at him. "I panicked because you used the feeling between us. Trampled all over it. Made me believe--" He broke off, struggling for control. Releasing Kelly, he backed up to sit on the other bed. He took another deep breath. "Only you blew it, you underestimated me. You didn't go far enough. You could have fucked me, you know. I couldn't have stopped you--that's what freaked me out. Maybe then your plan--" Scotty broke off, staring at Kelly's face, the final pieces falling into place for him. "That was your plan, wasn't it? Seduce me, fuck me, frighten me away by demonstrating how vulnerable I am. Change me into the liar."

Kelly's voice was level. "That was the plan."

Scotty nodded. "You bastard."

"You're starting to repeat yourself, Jack." Kelly reached out to open the drawer of the nightstand between the beds, fumbling for a cigarette--he couldn't hide the way his hand shook. And Scotty knew then that, whatever was going on, it wasn't cold-blooded.

Scotty plucked the cigarette from Kelly's fingers, flipping it across the room. "But you forgot one thing, didn't you? You forgot that you can't hurt me, you've never been able to hurt me. Not intentionally, not for any reason, not even to protect me or yourself. So you stopped and you changed it--you gave rather than took. You screwed up your own plan." Scotty waited through the silence, but Kelly wasn't looking at him, he was turned in on himself. "My God, Kelly. Don't you recognize love when you see it?" Scotty rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the burning sting of exhaustion in his eyes. "Well, your plan was a dismal failure. I'm still here. What are you going to do now?" Scotty gazed at Kelly's bowed head, but there was still no answer.

"All right," Scotty said. "Here's your chance, then, because I can't take this. You've beaten me. You tell me what you want--if you want me to leave, if you want me to stay. You tell me. But I want the truth, and I don't want what you think is best for me or even what is best for you. I want the simple, honest truth between us. Stay, or leave. You look me in the eye when you tell me. You got it? Go."

Kelly lifted his head to look at him, his mouth open, and the strain easy to read through his whole body. He breathed in and out, his eyes on Scotty, and Scotty held his gaze, hardly daring to breathe himself. "I--"

"The truth."

"The truth," Kelly repeated, shaking his head as if dazed. After a moment he closed his eyes and Scotty saw the exhaustion consuming him.

"Okay. I'll give you a reprieve." Scotty stood up and walked over to the lamp by the armchair, switching it off. He picked up the covers from the floor, by the bed they had used, and flung them onto the bed and onto Kelly. Then he went to the hallway and closed the door to the bedroom. Turning around, he made his way to the bed and crawled in beside Kelly.

When he heard Kelly take a breath, he spoke first. "We're going to sleep. We're both too tired for this right now. Lie down." Rather to his surprise, Kelly eased down onto the bed. Scotty followed him, wrapping an arm around Kelly's waist. "Because your next bright idea is going to be to leave without pushing me away first." Even more to his surprise, he heard and felt the ghost of a laugh from Kelly.

"I wouldn't dare."

"There isn't much you wouldn't dare, Ace. Go to sleep." Scotty closed his eyes, his arm tightening briefly around Kelly. The bed was too small for them, but he wasn't taking any chances. Whatever had happened, or would happen, at least Kelly was still there, and allowing him to stay. Tomorrow was soon enough to face the consequences.

When next Scotty opened his eyes, sunlight was streaming into the bedroom and Kelly was no longer in the bed with him. He sat up quickly, rubbing at one of his eyes, his heart sinking.

"I'm here." The voice came from behind him and Scotty twisted around to see Kelly walking toward him from the other room, a cup of coffee in his hand. Scotty sat back in the bed.

"We are a pair," Kelly said. He was dressed in white jeans and a green T-shirt, he was freshly shaved, and he looked alarmingly energetic. "Here." Kelly thrust the coffee cup into Scotty's hand.

Scotty looked at the coffee, then took a sip, still trying to get his brain in gear. The next thing he knew, Kelly had kissed him, had taken the coffee cup away from him and had pulled him out of bed.

"Come on, game's over, it's the showers for you." Kelly pushed him towards the bathroom. "You can take your coffee with you." He gave the cup back to Scotty.

Scotty raised his eyebrows.

"We're going sightseeing, Duke. Get along." Kelly slapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Sight--"

"Yeah. We have empanadas to take with us, so the sooner you get going the sooner we can eat. I'll go get the guidebook while you're showering." He moved to the other bed in the room.

"What about Rosy?" Scotty watched as Kelly rumpled the bed and punched at the pillow, making it look as if someone had slept there last night.

Kelly looked at him. "We don't need Rosy."

"Oh. Okay." Scotty smiled as the kiss finally registered. Obediently, he went to take a shower, draining the cup of coffee in the process. By the time he emerged from the shower he had begun to wonder just what sort of plan Kelly had come up with now, but at least he was better prepared to deal with it.

It was a glorious day outside, with a bright sun, puffy clouds pushed by a light breeze, and low humidity. They ate the empanadas in the car, washing them down with bottled water. Kelly drove them to the Ex-Hacienda San Gabriel de Barrera, a 17th century hacienda that had been restored and opened for tours of its house and gardens. They strolled through the house, encountering a couple of tour groups and dutifully admiring the rooms, the artwork and the furniture, then they wandered out into the gardens, where there were fewer people. There were seventeen gardens, each one representing a different country.

Walking along beside Kelly it was easy to forget the night before had ever happened. They always made time for sightseeing wherever they found themselves, often taking photographs for Scotty's mother. He had started doing that in San Francisco and he had kept it up all these years, but with Kelly beside him. Having Kelly with him had made the expeditions more fun and more satisfying, with the comments flying fast and furious, each of them trying to outdo the other. The truth was, everything was better if Kelly was along to share it. Scotty glanced at Kelly and wondered how it could have happened that his love had focused on this one man, beyond all others. Somehow, Kelly was everything he needed, and he believed the reverse was true as well--even if yesterday Kelly had done his damnedest to push Scotty out of his life.

It wasn't hard to figure out why Kelly had brought them here. There would be little chance of being bugged in a public place, and less of being overheard if they were careful. He wanted to take the precaution as a sign that Kelly meant to say yes, to combine it with the kiss this morning to feed his fragile, returning hope. But it could just as easily be a prelude to Kelly's refusal.

They entered the Roman garden, finding it deserted, and Kelly finally broke his silence. "I told myself it was the best thing for you. Get it over with. Pointing out the obvious hadn't worked; you were determined to...stay. To risk everything you should have--family, career--everything. I had to find a way to show you."

"You did. And your plan almost worked--a few weeks ago it would have." They turned a corner in the garden, following the path. "I would have come back."

"I know." Kelly was somber. "But you wouldn't have found me. I just needed a head start."

Scotty caught his breath. "You were that desperate. I was trying not to pressure you."

Kelly gave a short laugh. "Your mere presence is pressure."

"Kel." Scotty brought them to a stop by a touch on Kelly's arm. "Let me just say this once. I understand you were thinking about what I should have. But you're my family. And my career--that part of it--has never meant much to me. It's funny, but all the time I spent thinking about what I should do, about what I wanted, I thought about losing my job but I never thought about my career."

Kelly started walking again. "Same difference."

Scotty fell into step with him. "No, no they're not. In the job, it's enough just to survive every day; there isn't time to think about the future. But when I think about us--you and me--that's when I think about the future. Tells you a lot, doesn't it?"

They left the Roman garden, moving on into the Japanese garden. "You told me I was the only one who could stop it."

Scotty nodded at a strolling couple who turned onto their path then walked past them in the opposite direction. "You still are."

After a moment Kelly said, "I tried."

"Yes, you did." Scotty breathed in a little shakily. "I thought I could stay, even if you didn't want me, and we could be like we were. But it's too late for that. And I suppose I didn't really believe you wouldn't come around to my way of thinking." He looked at Kelly, knowing that everything he felt was in his face, and not caring. "I gave you a choice last night. A real one. Just--one thing--I'm still not leaving you alone out here. You decide we have to split and we'll go back to Washington. Do it right, if we have to do it at all."

"I don't want to go to Washington." Kelly's hands were jammed into his white jeans, his eyes on the path they were following.

"Okay."

"I wasn't just thinking about what was best for you."

Scotty's stomach tightened. "It took me far too long to figure out what I'd done to you. I could protect you from everything else, but...." He couldn't finish the sentence, the enormity of how he had used Kelly was still too great for him to express.

This time it was Kelly who stopped them, turning to look at Scotty, meeting his eyes. "Don't worry about it. I understood."

Scotty moved them forward, unable to stay still. "I don't want you to--expect--betrayal. You've never deserved that."

Kelly shrugged. "I've managed to mess up every important relationship in my life."

Scotty glanced at him. "My mother still loves you."

"Except that one, and look what you're trying to make me do, Jack." But Kelly's voice was light and Scotty breathed more easily. "The truth is, I've loved you since Hong Kong."

"You love me."

"Yeah." When Scotty stayed quiet, Kelly scowled. "Well, you're the one who keeps saying I do."

"I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Is this another underestimation?" Relief made Scotty's voice buoyant.

Kelly rolled his eyes. "You're not going to let me forget that, are you?"

"No." Scotty stopped walking. "Wait a minute--Hong Kong. _Hong Kong_?"

Kelly tugged at his arm to get him moving again. "Yes."

"But...when in Hong Kong?"

"Um." Kelly scrunched up his face and looked sideways at Scotty. "When Conley shot you. Yeah, about then." He coughed.

"Wonderful. Yes. I get shot and you fall in love."

"Well, I didn't _know_ it was love, exactly. But, looking back, that's pretty much when it happened." He looked at Scotty again, openly wary. "You stuck by me."

They'd reached a junction of paths and Scotty took the one leading to the Mexican garden. "So why is it that you've been giving me such a hard time about sticking with you now?"

"Well...consistency is boring, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't mind a little. Did you want me then?"

"No! I...well...sometimes."

Scotty glanced around then pulled Kelly off to the side of the path. "How much of what you told me in Los Angeles was true?"

"I didn't lie to you."

"You just didn't tell me the whole truth. That's one of the things you're going to have to stop doing."

Kelly took in a deep breath and then he spoke softly: "I had two experiences before that lab tech. One was...not entirely my choice; the other...." He trailed off, his eyes gazing into the distance over Scotty's shoulder. "The other was different." He brought his eyes back to Scotty. "Enough so that I could think about you that way, but I had no intention of ever letting you know."

"You told me about the lab tech."

Kelly shook his head, swallowing a laugh. "Because you kept asking. And the shock of it got you off my back." He looked away for a moment. "I guess I wanted to know how you'd react."

Scotty nodded and got them moving along the path again. "I didn't react very well."

"You didn't react that badly, either. You still stayed."

"You made me think it was--that you went with men regularly."

Kelly opened his mouth, then hesitated. "That was deliberate."

"Deliberate."

"Yes. So you wouldn't think the lab tech was a big deal for me because then you might figure out that I can be a bit...crazy where you're concerned." Kelly made a rather helpless gesture.

Slowly, Scotty smiled. "You were as overwhelmed as I was."

"I still am." Kelly ushered him into the Mexican garden, then fell into step beside him. "I tried to hide it."

"Except for Athens."

"I took advantage--"

"No." Scotty drew Kelly to a stop. "No, you gave in to me, because I needed it, and you showed me exactly what you felt." Kelly's gaze dropped. "I was the one who blew it and gave you cause to distrust me."

"I didn't."

"You did--or, more accurately, you distrusted what I said I felt. I don't blame you. But that's why you thought your strategy would work last night."

Kelly hunched his shoulders. "I was--"

"--desperate." Kelly's eyes lifted quickly to his, and Scotty held his gaze. He was realizing, for the first time, just how much Kelly had had to lose: his love, his partner, his family, all wrapped up in the same person. No wonder he'd begged Scotty not to leave, even through betrayal and pain. He'd needed Scotty to stay--until his back was against the wall, and the choice had come down to Scotty's welfare. "You can say what you like but I know there's only one thing that would've made you desperate enough to try that plan last night. You're not that good at protecting yourself but you are that good at protecting me."

"Is that right?" Kelly was giving him his best skeptical look.

"Yeah. So, we both underestimated."

Kelly groaned. "I wish you would stop that." But he smiled and his shoulders had relaxed.

Scotty smiled right back at him. And then he grabbed hold of Kelly's arm and dragged him out of the Mexican garden, hurrying him back along the path towards the entrance.

"Where are we going?"

"Why did you have to pick such a public place?" Scotty smiled at two older women who were watching them curiously. He took his hand off Kelly's arm but he kept up the pace.

"It's a beautiful place, that's why. We should take some pictures for your mom."

"I didn't bring the camera."

Kelly grinned. "It's in the car."

"We'll come back. Right now we're going home."

"Why?"

Scotty just looked at him.

"Don't you go thinking that you can do what you're doing right now for the rest of our lives. Ordering me around the way you do. Dragging me off when I'm enjoying the scenery." But Kelly was keeping up with him.

"I have some different scenery in mind."

"Yes, you've made that clear."

As they reached the car, Scotty held out his hands for the keys. Kelly obligingly gave them to him, climbing into the passenger seat himself. Scotty settled into the driver's seat and put the key in the ignition, then he looked over at Kelly. "No more diversions, no more subterfuge, right? You're saying yes?"

Kelly gazed at him and Scotty could see the shadows in his eyes, the knowledge of the fears that they both carried, inextricably mixed up with each other. As always, Kelly stepped up to his fears. "Yeah, I'm saying yes."

Scotty nodded, unable to speak for a moment. Kelly never committed lightly. "All right. Me too."

"And the Department?"

"Stay and see how it goes?" Somehow, the impossible risks he had contemplated in Philadelphia seemed possible here, with Kelly beside him.

"We'll talk about it. Are you going to start the car?"

Scotty turned the keys, listening to the purring of the motor. He leaned over to Kelly and spoke into his ear. "We'll talk about it after you carry through with the part of your plan you couldn't finish last night."

Kelly looked at him quickly. Scotty grinned. After a moment, Kelly smiled back, and his hand settled on Scotty's thigh. Taking off the hand brake, Scotty--not quite smoothly--accelerated, heading back for their hotel.

*****

_Dear Alexander,_

_Thank you for the beautiful pictures from Guanajuato. I can practically smell the flowers, they look so vibrant. That is certainly one of the most lovely places you've visited and I can see why you stayed there so long. If I ever do travel I'm thinking Mexico might be the country I'd most like to visit. Perhaps one day, in between tournaments, I could visit you two._

_Jo has just broken up with Thomas. I think it is probably for the best, what with her starting college in the fall, but meanwhile it is all misery and gloom around here. I don't know what it is about the teenage years. I well remember when you broke up with that Cynthia and you moped around the house for a solid month._

_Aunt Ruby tells me that Valerie is expecting already. Ruby is beside herself with joy and has already started looking at baby clothes. I'm happy to go shopping with her but I have to say that I'm not anticipating the day when I have grandchildren. I know you're worried that I'll be lonely when Jo leaves, and I will be to a certain extent, but I'm also looking forward to having some of my own time. That's why I'm not eager for grandchildren right now. I'm even thinking about maybe signing up for one of those courses they're starting to offer for older adults at the University. Can you imagine?_

_Oh, there's Jo now at the door, so I'd best get dinner on the table. Write when you can, son, and be sure to take proper care of yourself and of Kelly. See that you do, now._

_Love,_

_Mom_

***

_Dear Kelly,_

_I can tell from Alexander's letters that he's fine now, and happy. I know who I have to thank for that._

_Now don't you let him come home next time without you. I want to see both my boys. Letters are no substitute for visiting. You know that you're always welcome here, and always will be._

_Take good care of Alexander, and let him watch after you, too, since it makes him so happy to do that._

_Love,_

_Mom_

  


The End

_2002_

**Author's Note:**

> Published in the multi-fandom zine OVERTURES from Allamagoosa Press, 2003.


End file.
